


The Width of a Mattress

by coffee_rings



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Quarantine, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, more kinks than I can reasonably tag according to my readers, no beta we die like Glenn, obnoxious bantering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 196,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25796776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffee_rings/pseuds/coffee_rings
Summary: Felix bumps into his ex-college roommate Sylvain in May of 2020 after a year of avoiding him. He ends up having to quarantine with Sylvain in his off-campus apartment for two weeks, though they have very different feelings about being reunited.At least, initially.(Aka, the 15 chapter rom-com falling in love montage and then a shit ton of smut and angst.)
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 396
Kudos: 356





	1. flowers and flour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday, May 2nd. Felix bumps into his old college roommate. Like, physically. Very physically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No particular warnings for this chapter, but I have included some overarching content warnings in the end notes. Please check each chapter for specific content warnings (or if you know me in real life!)

A huge pink flower bombarded Felix’s eye. He couldn't help but think how kind it was of spring to arrive just in time to smack him in the face.

Felix instinctively recoiled as the flower’s low-hanging branch swung back for its next attack. He managed to duck it this time, but— _flump_. He fumbled the paper bag of flour tucked under his arm. It hit the sidewalk corner first and burst its contents out like a powdery white blood splatter.

Fucking idiot. This was why people generally look where they’re walking, Felix! He started to reach for the flour, adjusting the grocery bags on each shoulder.

But was it safe to pick it up? His mind raced. The bottoms of people’s shoes aren’t clean and this was a public sidewalk. What were the odds someone had coughed in this exact spot? Did the fact that it was sunny actually help? It only lasted about a day on the paper bag, right? But it would be killed in the oven anyway, wouldn’t it? What was the internal temperature of bread mid-baking?

And what good was science if the rules of how to live changed every goddamn day?

Once all that had flashed through his mind, Felix was left crouching and looking down at the split bag and the spray of flour on the sidewalk. By his estimation, half of the flour was on the concrete. Was it even worth picking up? How had humanity not yet found a better way to package flour?

And how would he carry it back, anyway? He didn’t have room in the grocery bags for it. They were overstuffed enough as it was, thus why he had been carrying the flour stuffed between his arm and torso in the first place. And if he didn’t take it, should he just leave it? He glanced around hoping for a nearby garbage can and cursed his abysmal luck.

He gingerly scooped the bag up with one hand and tried to stop more flour from spilling out, which caused more flour to spill out. It puffed into the air and stuck onto his face and clothes as he made a beeline for the garbage can at the end of the block.

After dropping the bag into the trash, Felix tried to shake the flour off his arms with little success. He turned his gaze upward to blink rapidly into the bright sunlight, willing himself not to sneeze. God, it was _beyond_ frustrating not to be able to touch his face. If only he hadn’t taken off his fucking mask. He had only wanted to breathe for a moment while there was no one around…

Only five more blocks. He again adjusted his bags and willed himself to finish the walk home. Despite carrying literally two pounds less without the flour, walking home still felt like such an ordeal. (Plus, what a senseless waste of two dollars.)

Still blinking furiously as flour kept shaking loose from his eyelashes, Felix crossed the street while barely looking. The whole neighborhood—made up of mostly hotels and apartment buildings of varying degrees of luxury and decay—was empty and quiet anyway.

As he passed one of the more high-end apartment buildings, Felix felt an overwhelming itch to get the flour off his face before he sneezed. The mild seasonal allergies certainly weren’t helping, either. He fought the urge to touch his face with his hands and instead tried to brush some of the flour onto his shoulder.

He failed.

He failed at suppressing the sneeze. He sneezed into his shoulder, which only created a new cloud of flour that settled onto him again.

And with one eye screwed up and his chin tucked into his arm, he also failed to notice as a figure swung out from the apartment building’s entrance. In a flash of red hair and black scarf, the person’s shoulder knocked into his own, sending him off balance and twisting to catch his fall on one hand—

The heel of Felix’s bare hand hit the ground hard, and pain lanced up his wrist.

As he found himself sitting the ground and suddenly awash with heady painkilling endorphins, he drew his hand up to examine its scraped surface. Blood had already began to well up into his hand. “Ah, fuck,” he said with a wince.

But he had avoided crushing the grocery bags, he noted dryly. At least the eggs were safe.

The person he had collided with was now crouching down, apologizing profusely. “Oh man, I’m sorry—” An outstretched hand entered his view.“I really—Felix?”

Felix automatically grasped the offered hand with his injured one and glanced up upon hearing his name.

“Sylvain?” The name leapt unbidden to his lips. He looked into the eyes of his roommate from sophomore year.

He was too far into actual shock to be surprised. It just seemed fitting for the fan-fucking-tastic day he was having.

Sylvain’s expression morphed from surprise to something sharper. Panic? Fear? He scrambled back to his feet, pulling Felix unceremoniously up with him before yanking his hand free from Felix’s grasp.

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry—get away from me. You need to back up. I wasn’t thinking.” Sylvain flattened himself against the silvery wall of apartment mailboxes, and then edged closer to the door in an attempt to get further from Felix.

Disoriented, Felix swayed on his feet. His hip stabbed with pain where he had landed on it. “I—what?”

“I’m sick. Well, I _was_ sick. I had a fever, like, seven days ago, but I was never able to get tested. I’m fine now, but whatever it was I had, I’m… maybe still contagious? I don’t really know,” Sylvain said, voice cowed.

Then he flung an arm over his face in panic, tucking his mouth and nose into the sleeve of his coat before continuing, “I just meant to grab something from the mail quickly, and oh fuck oh man. This is not good.”

Even muffled by Sylvain’s elbow, every word sunk into Felix like a needle into flesh. And Felix usually fainted getting shots.

“Yeah, no shit,” Felix said quietly. “And no mask?”

“I ordered masks—I was actually coming to my mailbox to get them—”

Felix’s eyes darted between Sylvain’s hands: One hand hanging by his side. The other resting on his opposite shoulder as Sylvain covered his face with his elbow. The outward-facing palm was smeared with Felix’s blood.

“ _Please_ tell me you washed your hands before coming out here.” Did that make any difference now?

“I was planning to just grab the package, and—” Sylvain cut himself off. “Dude. You’re really bleeding a lot.”

“And what do you suggest I do about it?” Felix snapped. He had the good sense to take another step back. And another. Ouch, his hip really hurt. And his head was buzzing, whether from panic or shock.

“I mean, we have to clean it.”

 _We?_ Felix thought dimly.

“Do you live alone?” Sylvain asked.

“Does it look like I do?” Felix gestured downward at the bulging grocery bags still hanging from his shoulders. This was obviously too much food for one person, right? “I’m living with my parents.” Wow, he _loathed_ the sound of those words.

“I… don’t think you should go back…” Sylvain sounded nearly as lost and overwhelmed as Felix felt. “Do you have anywhere else to go?”

“No. Not all of us have parents who own multiple properties.”

Sylvain visibly winced. “I…understand that.”

Felix knew he was being an asshole. Like, more than usual. Maybe even more than Sylvain deserved. “I need to sit down.” He was feeling woozier every minute he spent standing. He lowered himself back to the ground and shrugged the straps of the bags off his shoulders. He cursed the universe for making him prone to dizziness.

As he sat, the pain in his hip radiated down the outside of his thigh, hot and prickly as his endorphin rush wore off.

He would have to remember that, in future, it was best not to get attacked by a tree branch while carrying more than twenty pounds of groceries, causing him to spill flour onto himself and then literally bump into his old roommate during a global pandemic. Turns out it was not a great idea.

Sylvain was kneeling by his side again, this time a few more feet away. “Listen, I have stuff to clean your hand. I can take care of it.” He spoke quickly, face still hidden into his elbow. “How far away do you live?”

“Like, four more blocks that way.”

Sylvain’s eyebrows furrowed. “Ah. See, the problem is, I think we have to assume you’ve just been exposed…? To something, at least. Going home would put your parents at risk, but also, I don’t think you’re even in the condition to walk four blocks right now. If you come in, you can…”

Sylvain’s voice grew distant. Felix’s field of vision shrank to a dark, narrow tunnel. His eyelids fell shut.

He blinked them back open and suddenly Sylvain’s uncovered face was directly above him, looking right into his eyes with the blue sky behind him, bright sunlight turning his hair into a fiery red halo.

“Why am I laying on the ground?” Felix mumbled.

When Sylvain responded, his voice sounded fuzzy, like Felix’s ears were stuffed with cotton. “Uh, you passed the fuck out. Like, five minutes ago.” Sylvain then seemed to realize his proximity and gently slid his hand out from under Felix’s head.

Felix tried to sit up, planting his hand by his side. As his scraped palm pressed against the sidewalk, he sucked in a breath through his teeth and wilted back onto the ground. Sylvain watched uneasily. “Maybe you shouldn’t try to move for a minute? And don’t move your legs, I used one of your bags to elevate your feet.”

Felix stared blankly up into the sky. “Better not be the eggs.”

“What?”

“The bag with the eggs. If you cracked my fucking eggs, you’re gonna die by my blade.”

Sylvain’s lips slowly stretched into a disbelieving grin. “Wow. You’re the same Felix as ever.”

“What clued you in? The death threat?”

“Definitely the death threat,” Sylvain agreed. “Well, at least that proves I managed to protect your pretty little head from a personality-altering concussion. Ah, I’ve always wanted to catch a swooning damsel in distress! Or wait, what’s the opposite of damsel? Well, not _opposite_ , but—”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a swooning—”

“The word swoon means faint, you know,” Sylvain added helpfully.

“I know what it means!” Felix snapped. “And I see _you_ haven’t changed, either. Still can’t go five minutes without flirting, huh?” He considered stopping there, but he couldn’t resist adding, “Whore.”

Sylvain’s grin spread wider. “Asshole.”

“Shit for brains.”

“Okay, okay, as charming as this is, I really think we should get you inside. You’d look better laying on my couch than on the ground.”

Felix just stared back at him, unimpressed.

“I meant that you’d _feel_ better! But damn, you’d probably look better too. You’re looking a little pale.”

“Speak for yourself.” Felix had been close enough to Sylvain’s face to notice his usual sunshine-induced freckles were mysteriously absent.

“Hey, I’ve been hiding from the sun for nearly two months for the good of humanity.”

“You’re not special, you know that, right? It’s not like I’m going out either. This is my weekly grocery run. Well, it was.” Until the universe had conspired against him in every possible way. “Point is, it’s not my fault I’m vitamin D deficient.”

“When I said you were pale, I was referring to the blood loss,” said Sylvain. ”But hey, vitamin D. Nice.” It occurred to Felix that Sylvain’s face was looking extremely smackable today.

“Shut up,” he said crossly. “Well, I guess there’s no point avoiding you now. Help me get up.”

Sylvain smiled his signature shit-eating grin. “It would be my _pleasure_.”

“Slut. You really should shut your mouth.”

“Oh, no thanks. I keep my mouth open at all times, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, for the love of god—”

Sylvain must have slipped both grocery bags off Felix’s arms. Felix sat, and then stood, with Sylvain’s hands placed supportively on his back and elbow. In Felix’s eyes, Sylvain seemed to be almost sparkling in the bright sunlight, and Felix was feeling better too—more fluid, more relaxed. Almost…sleepy.

Wait.

Felix blinked, and then he was looking up at the sky again. The sky, the sun, and Sylvain. “What am I doing on the ground again.” It was less of a question this time and more of a complaint.

“You tell me, princess. I mean, prince.” Felix rolled his eyes as Sylvain went on. “So, shall I carry you? Perhaps you should accompany me to my humble abode? Though surely the highest tower is where a treasure like you belongs.”

Felix closed his eyes before he could give himself a headache from rolling them repeatedly. He tried to faint a third time, but his body refused to perform the trick on command.“You’re ridiculous,” he informed Sylvain.

It was more than a little humiliating to accept help from Sylvain, of all people—and yet, Felix was tragically in no state to reject the offer, regardless of how much he longed to. “Fine. You can carry me.” A moment passed with Sylvain making no move to pick him up, so Felix glared pointedly at him and said, “Um, sometime today? Hurry up.”

Sylvain made his mouth into a little pout at being chastised. “ _You_ hurry up. You have to at least sit up. I can’t pick you up if you’re just ragdolling on the ground.”

“Seriously?”

“I’ll admit, I do have muscles, but they’re more for form than for function.”

“So, like the rest of you.”

(To be fair, Sylvain looked good—well, like he had taken surprisingly good care of himself during his isolation. He was clean-shaven, and his physique looked the same as ever. Which was to say, fit. Unfairly fit. Felix had no clue how he maintained it. In nearly three years of knowing him, he had only rarely seen Sylvain exercise.)

“Hey, you could show a little more gratitude to the guy who’s _trying_ to save your life,” Sylvain said with a smile. Then he again seemed to notice how close he was to Felix. He removed his black scarf, wrapped it around his face, and tied it at the back of his head. Hiding that oh-so expressive mouth of his.

“Saving me? Or possibly killing me and my family?” Felix asked morosely.

“That part was unintentional.” Sylvain helped him into a sitting position, and then threaded one arm under his legs and the other under his shoulders.

As he lifted Felix, Sylvain huffed under his breath, “Up we go, second time’s the charm,” so close to Felix’s ear it made goosebumps spring up along the back of his neck. “Here, put your arms around my neck. I’ll come back for the groceries later.”

“You fucking better, that’s like a hundred fifty dollars worth of stuff.”

Sylvain opened his mouth to say something (even through the scarf, Felix could see his jaw move) and promptly closed it again as he lifted Felix up.

Felix’s whole body felt hot, between physical pain from his fall and the deeper, existential pain of clinging onto Sylvain’s neck. “Actually, maybe it’s better if you leave me to die now.”

“Better for you, maybe. But I would rather see you live long enough for me to—uh, how did you say it? —die by your blade.” Sylvain awkwardly moved to grasp the door handle with the hand currently under Felix’s legs, inadvertently knocking Felix’s ankles into the glass.

“Um, ow?” Felix said, offended. “If you want me to live, you could at least act like it.”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll get it. Second time’s the charm.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that,” Felix observed.

“Uh, yeah. The second time’s the charm, you see.”

“But you just—you know what, never mind. Just get the door without killing my ankles this time.” Ordering Sylvain around did help Felix feel a little less powerless about having to be carried in his annoyingly strong arms.

It happened twice more, though. The ankles-hitting-doors thing, that is. (The being-carried-by-Sylvain thing was, unfortunately, continuous.)

First, Sylvain successfully tipped Felix’s legs out of harm’s way as he pressed the button to call the elevator. And then he banged Felix’s legs into the elevator wall while pressing the button for his floor.

“The penthouse level, huh? I should have guessed.” Highest tower indeed. Sylvain ignored him and readjusted his arms under Felix as an excuse to toss him in the air, jostling him around a bit. It was a very Sylvain thing to do.

“I can’t believe you offer to carry me and then can’t even do that properly,” Felix added just for the sake of additional bitching.

“Properly? You’re off the ground, aren’t you? I think your standards are too high,” Sylvain said.

“Maybe yours are too low,” Felix retorted.

Once out of the elevator, Sylvain fumbled with his own door, and Felix’s ankles took another beating against the doorframe. “Ouch. Fucking hell. Are you sure you aren’t trying to kill me?” Felix kicked at Sylvain in petty revenge.

“Dude, I swear to god, I am trying to _help_ you, but the compulsion to drop you on the floor grows stronger by the second. By the way, what’s your excuse for not wearing a mask?”

“It’s in my pocket. I wore it in the store, of course, but it’s just easier to breathe without it, and there was no one else out on the street, so…”

His hand felt crusty and his hip and upper thigh throbbed a steady heartbeat of pain as Sylvain carried him over the threshold. But somehow the panic Felix had felt from running into Sylvain began to ebb alongside his fear of fainting again in the near future.

Sylvain lowered him gingerly onto the couch, which was, thankfully, a comfortable plushy sofa and not a leather couch Felix would need to be peeled off of. Felix relaxed gratefully into it but bit his lip when his stinging side had to bear some of his weight again.

Felix couldn’t help but notice the high ceiling, the natural light streaming in through floor to ceiling windows along one side of the room—and notice the balcony beyond it. Notice, not admire. Or covet.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back.” Sylvain spoke with such a serious look on his face that Felix found it hilarious. Excellent bedside manner, Sylvain! And even more hilariously, Sylvain rushed back after a moment with an entire, honest-to-god emergency kit, already popping it open mid stride.

Sylvain knelt by his side with an expression of such deep concern that an amused huff of laughter escaped Felix. “Aw, look,” he said, purposefully patronizing, “you’re the finally the good little doctor that daddy wanted you to be.”

“Ooh, are you daddy in this case? Because I’m happy to play doctor for you.” Despite his words, Sylvain was focused on flipping a bottle upside-down to wet a cotton ball before taking Felix’s hand.

“Shut up,” Felix replied reflexively.

“You keep telling me to shut up, but then you keep restarting the conversation with me. How mysterious.” Sylvain continued cleaning Felix’s hand quite sincerely, pausing whenever Felix winced.

“You don’t have any disinfectant of the non-stinging variety, do you?”

“Aw, come on, I’m sure you can handle a little pain.”

“I can. It’s just that my pain tolerance is already stretched thin just by enduring your presence.”

Sylvain had finished cleaning his hand and was unraveling gauze to wrap it with. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, yeah, it’s nice to see you too. So, other than your hand, do you have any other battle wounds you need me to take care of?”

“Need you?” Felix asked, incredulous. “To take care of me? Never.” Sylvain laughed, and Felix could see the hints of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. Felix wished he could see a smile to go with those eyes. “But I think I’ll be pretty bruised tomorrow.”

“Heh. From the fall, or…?”

Felix felt his cheeks burn. “Yes, idiot, from the fall. You sure did knock me flat on my ass.” Fucking typical Sylvain. He was always turning things around until you couldn’t tell whether he was flirting with you or you were flirting with him.

While Sylvain was wrapping his hand, some little wall of resistance in Felix crumbled and he blurted out, “You know you can take off the scarf, right? I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed. I’m literally in your apartment.”

“I guess I just thought it never hurts to use protection.” Sylvain winked. Insufferable.

“You seriously never stop, huh?”

“Hey, you’re the one asking to see my beautiful face again. I don’t blame you. I can be quite appealing.”

Felix groaned. “Ugh. It’s just creepy. Not seeing people’s faces, I mean.”

“Not seeing _my_ face, specifically,” Sylvain corrected him. “My _beautiful_ face.”

“Sure, if that’s what you have to tell yourself.”

Sylvain snapped shut the first aid kit and said, “So, as you were saying…where are those bruises gonna be tomorrow?” He wiggled one perfect eyebrow at Felix.

“Where I fell, you dimwit. Like I said before, I fell flat on my ass.” Felix could feel his face flushing again. There was no reason to be embarrassed. But no matter how much he told himself that, involuntary reactions didn’t listen to reason.

“Hmm…” Sylvain pretended to think for a moment. Or maybe he actually _was_ thinking. Who knew what his mind is capable of?

Nah. He was probably deciding on a line about _getting you out of those jeans for an examination_ or something. 

Sylvain looked at Felix expectantly and said, “Well, we have to come up with a plan.”

“What?” That wasn’t what Felix had expected to hear.

Sylvain tilted his head. “You know, a plan? Like, an idea of what you’re going to do in the near future?”

“About my bruises?”

“No, about possibly getting sick. Why, do you want a plan for some bruises, too?” Sylvain spoke with a twinkle in his eyes. “‘Cause we can make that happen.”

“No. I just—”

Sylvain took that moment to lower the scarf from around his face. Exposing his cheesy grin. “Want me to take a look at them?”

“No, I—ugh, you’re such a freak.”

Sylvain just laughed. “Oh, Felix,” he said sunnily, “You may be a snarky bastard, but you’re so easy to fluster.”

“I’m not a—” Felix cut himself off this time. Arguing with Sylvain was a losing situation for all parties. Well, maybe not for Sylvain, if he enjoyed the arguing. “You may act like an insatiable flirt, but—”

“Who says it’s an act? Now stop being so distracting. We need to figure out what to do.” Even after knowing him for three years (or maybe only two?), Sylvain could be impossible to read at times. He still wore the easy smile, but something told Felix he was serious. “I’ll get you some meds while you take a moment for quiet reflection.”

Sylvain left and returned with a glass of water from the kitchen, which he left for Felix on the coffee table. He breezed past and then reappeared with a couple of pills from the bathroom. He sat on the coffee table next to the water glass. And he had washed his hands, so they were cool to the touch—and not bloody—as Felix accepted the pills from his fingertips.

Felix hated swallowing pills, but he tried to save face by not shuddering when he tasted them on the back of his tongue. He was semi-successful. He cleared his throat before speaking. “So. A plan. You mean since you, uh, held my bare hand, with an open wound, in your bare hand?” God, it sounded so intimate when he put it that way.

“Yeah, and the fact that you’re now at my house,” said Sylvain. His face froze. “Oh fuck, I forgot the groceries outside!” He made to stand up before Felix caught his wrist and pinned him with the incredulous look on his face.

“You can get them later. But what do you want me to do? Move into a hotel room?” Felix released Sylvain’s wrist and snatched his glass of water up for another sip. “Not possible.” He tried not to think too hard about the state of his bank account.

Sylvain shrugged and shook his head at the same time. “I would put you up in a hotel, but it would probably just expose you to more people. Or… expose more people to you. Not to mention, I’m not even sure whether hotels are open right now…”

“Anyway,” Sylvain resumed his train of thought, “if you _do_ get sick, it would be best to have someone to care for you. I mean, like, feeding you, going outside when necessary. And since I just recovered… I mean, I don’t know how it works exactly, but I’m pretty sure I should be immune to my own germs. And you obviously don’t want to take them home to your parents.”

Felix said, “Now _that’s_ an understatement.” And probably for different reasons than Sylvain was thinking.

“So.” Sylvain hesitated a beat, smile waning. “You’re welcome to stay here. I mean, it makes the most sense, I think. If you want to. You don’t have to. I know you might, uh…” He swallowed audibly. “Have some reservations. After... last time.”

 _There it is_.

It seemed Sylvain couldn’t keep up the smile any longer, because he instead looked like a kicked puppy. Or a maybe a puppy pleading with its eyes.

Felix sighed. “Well, you know what they say about the second time.” 

He directed his eyes to stare out Sylvain’s beautiful windows again. He didn’t really want to see the look of instant relief on Sylvain’s face, but he snuck a peek anyway.

Sylvain looked stupid happy. “Works for me,” Sylvain said, managing to sound nonchalant. But he grinned that cheeky, boyish smile of his as if he had just proven someone wrong.

God, he really was transparent as glass.

“Just” —Felix averted his eyes again— “go get the groceries.”

“Of course, your highness. That’s gender neutral, right?” Sylvain got up to leave.

“You sure you’ll be able to make it back?” Felix called after him. “Better not run off with my stuff.”

Sylvain tossed him a quick wink over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Rapunzel. I’ll come back for you.” Then he stepped out of sight and closed the door behind him. Something bright and hot bloomed in Felix’s core.

Weird. He was pretty sure he hadn’t fallen there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will frequently include references to disordered eating, past abuse, and underage drinking. There will be additional chapter-specific content warnings, but the three above recur often enough that I feel I should mention them from the start.


	2. hierarchy of needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday, May 2nd. Felix figures out where to sleep tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter, but please check each chapter for content warnings (or if you know me in real life)!

Alone in the apartment, Felix took a moment to collect himself. This day was not going at all according to plan. He tapped the screen of his phone and put it to his ear. It rang three times. “Hi, Dad.” Felix was dreading this part.

“Felix? Is something wrong?” His father, Rodrigue Fraldarius, sounded remarkably calm and sane on the phone.

“No. Actually, kinda. When I was walking back from the store, I… bumped into” — _an old friend_ , his mind supplied helpfully— “an acquaintance from school.”

“That’s nice, son.”

“No, I mean, I _literally_ walked into him and fell down. And tore up my hand. And he was sick with a fever like a week ago.”

“Hmm, that sounds difficult,” Rodrigue said. He still sounded like he was listening with only one ear. (Which, technically, he was. Because that’s how phones work.)

“No, you’re not hearing me. I physically crashed into him and fell on my hand so hard I fainted.” Felix felt his eyelid twitch. “Twice.”

Rodrigue made a little “uh-huh, I’m listening” noise that meant he totally wasn’t listening. “Alright. So, what time will you be home?”

“I’m not coming back!” Frustration leaked into Felix’s voice. “I’m going to be staying with him, since then there’s no chance of infecting anyone else. Sorry, but you’ll need to get groceries delivered or something. And I’ll need someone to drop off some of my stuff, like—” He ran a mental inventory: clothes, toothbrush, laptop, chargers, books, maybe his pillow… “You know what? I’ll text you the list later. And the address.”

“Sure, that’s fine. I can do that. Which friend from school is this, again?”

“Sylvain.”

“Right. Why did you stop living with him, again?”

Felix’s heart leaped when he heard the key in the lock of the front door.

“Oh, sorry, got to go. He’s back. Ok, yeah, dad. Thanks. Bye. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” It didn’t really matter what he said; his father’s mind was elsewhere anyway. He hurriedly ended the call and turned his attention back to Sylvain as he stumbled in with the two bags of groceries.

“So, you called your parents?” asked Sylvain, setting the bags on the barstool-height chairs surrounding the large island in his kitchen. He started unpacking, absentmindedly transferring boxes and cans to a pantry and leaving the fresh produce in a bowl on the counter.

“Yeah. And yes, of course you can keep my groceries, Sylvain,” said Felix, voice dripping with sarcasm. He still lay on Sylvain’s couch and found himself increasingly not wanting to move. 

“Thanks, pal. I knew you wouldn’t mind.” The milk, butter, and the (blessedly unbroken) eggs went into the fridge.

“I’m only letting you have them because it’s payment for letting me stay here.”

“As if I would ever charge you!” Sylvain paused his sorting to put a hand on his heart, looking wounded. He dropped it a second later and said, “Nah, but really, I figured you’ll be eating it anyway…” He resumed unpacking. “How’d you manage to use your own bags, by the way?”

“The wonders of the self-checkout line.” Sylvain probably didn’t shop at the kind of grocery stores that had self-checkout, did he?

Sylvain said, “Oh, I see.” Aka, no, he didn’t.

He pulled out a bottle of whiskey. It clinked as he set it on the counter, golden liquid barely sloshing in the bottle. “Hmm, whiskey? Seems out of character for you. I remember you being a tequila guy. Times change, I guess.”

“It’s not for me, it’s my dad’s,” Felix snapped.

“I kinda forgot you can just…buy alcohol now.”

“Benefits of being 21. Never got to go to a bar though.”

Sylvain continued unpacking and then stopped, fishing out a small bag. “Chocolate chips, eh, Felix?” he teased. “How the turn tables…”

Felix rolled his eyes. “So what? I was going to try baking some cookies. Sue me.”

“Again, it’s out of character, but not a crime.” He finished unpacking and hung Felix’s bags on a hook seemingly dedicated to reusable bags. Alongside his _own_ reusable bags. Felix’s stomach flip-flopped inexplicably. “So, since when do you bake? I guess you really were going stir-crazy, huh?”

“I could be a talented baker,” Felix insisted. “You wouldn’t even know.”

“Ah, but you wouldn’t know either,” Sylvain pointed out, “if you’ve never baked before. Talent is fine, but I would personally prefer an experienced baker to make me cookies—or just someone who has made cookies before. Ever, at all, in their entire life.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Felix said humorlessly. “And now we’ll never know, since I dropped my flour all over the street about a block before bumping into you.”

Sylvain eyed him up and down with a little smirk. “I did wonder what was on your clothes. And face. But who am I to judge? Could be cocaine. It could baby formula for all I know. I don’t know your life.”

That stung a little bit. “I know I’ve… been out of touch.”

Sylvain sighed. “I wasn’t even talking about that, but yeah, that’s one way to put it. Look, I’m not holding onto anything from the past. It was just a joke. I don’t want to pry.”

Felix stayed silent a moment. “I… I appreciate that,” he finally said. He wished the past could be so easily banished. Should he mention…?

Sylvain’s voice brought him back to reality. “Speaking of which… I know this must be a hard time for you, what with the pandemic… and the anniversary, and all that.” Well, that answered that question.

Whatever air was in Felix’s lungs squeezed painfully out of him, leaving him winded as if he had been punched. He drew a shaky breath and said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sylvain’s expression softened. “And you don’t have to. I just wanted to say I’m really sorry. From everything I’ve heard, Glenn was a great guy.” Felix heard the unspoken words in Sylvain’s voice: _A good brother_. “So I can hardly imagine what it’s like for you right now.”

Felix’s vision was wavering. “Thanks,” he said past the lump in his throat. He tried to keep his face slack. And not blink. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Three years later, and the chasm Glenn left in his life only seemed to grow deeper as he got better at ignoring it. Time just added to the number of years that Felix would never get to tell Glenn about, the years of life that Glenn wouldn’t get to live.

“Hey.” Sylvain returned to sit on the coffee table next to the couch and extended a hand to stroke Felix’s head. Felix hated that Sylvain remembered he liked that. “Since we’ve already touched too much” — _today, or in general?_ — “can I…give you a hug? Only if you want.”

But maybe that was what Felix needed. So he said, “Yes.”

Sylvain shifted to sit on the edge of the couch facing him. He leaned in toward Felix and put his arms around Felix’s shoulders, held Felix’s head to his chest. Felix mirrored him after a moment, barely skimming his hands up the back of Sylvain’s shirt until they landed to rest at the center of his back. Just the lightest hovering touch. Sylvain gently tightened his embrace to a comforting squeeze.

It had been a while since Felix had hugged someone. Or rather, been hugged. Since the school year had abruptly ended partway through the semester, the last person had probably been Annette as she packed up to leave campus. And in that case, Annette had been the one to cry, and Felix had hugged her and tried not to cry himself. She had put her cheek to his collarbone and wept on his shirt, surrounded by cardboard boxes.

That must have been, what, more than a month ago? Two months ago? Time had blurred into one continuous stream with no distinguishing features.

Now he was here, with Sylvain’s chin brushing the side of his head, and he was biting the inside of his cheek to stay silent for a long, heavy moment. It was all so strange. Just breathing made his chest ache, but it felt like the only thing he was capable of doing at all.

He had said he didn’t want to talk, but it was easier to talk with his face hidden.

“And—it’s like,” he said haltingly, “if it weren’t bad enough, my father won’t stop talking about it now. _Bragging_ about it, like it’s fucking heroic.” Sylvain didn’t move.

“But it’s not,” Felix went on. “It’s tragic. Glenn wasn’t a fucking hero. He was just underpaid, and overworked, and hundreds of miles from home. But my dad just keeps talking about what Glenn would be doing now if he were still—around. It’s like he wishes Glenn could sacrifice himself twice.”

He wished he could channel the feeling into anger, rather than feeling crushed by it. “I just…” He breathed again, willing his voice not to crack. “I don’t give a fuck about serving our country, or the greater good, or whatever else. But I did give a fuck about Glenn.”

Sylvain quietly said, “I’m sorry,” and fell silent again.

Felix supposed there wasn’t much else to be said. In fact, he already felt stupid for saying that much. “It’s just…not fair,” he finished lamely.

“Yeah. It isn’t.” Sylvain started to loosen his hold.

Right. Time to detach himself. Felix quickly dropped his arms from Sylvain’s back. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve as discreetly as possible, shivering. The warmth had been kind of nice, at least.

“Thanks. I’m fine now.” He knew he didn’t sound like it, though. He stared past Sylvain at the faint coffee rings on the glass table. “How…how did you hear? Unless you just…remembered…?”

“Oh. Ingrid brought it up. You know we’re still friends with all the same people, right? Though we never seem to hang out with them at the same time anymore. I didn’t even see you at Ingrid’s birthday party.”

(Felix actually _had_ been at that party. When he had spotted Sylvain, a strange, clammy feeling had come over him and convinced him to flee the party. Mercedes hadn’t even brought the cake out yet.)

“Ingrid’s devastated, you know,” Sylvain continued. “Especially with…everything that’s going on now.”

“Of course she is.” Felix bit the inside of his cheek, feeling hollowed out. “Of course I know that. I’ve talked to her.”

He hadn’t talked to her recently, though. He had discovered that she was probably the most painful person to talk to about Glenn, or current events. Yet they couldn’t talk about anything else right now without it feeling superficial.

Sylvain was looking at him with sympathy in his eyes again. “Okay. Are you hungry?” Sylvain got up and gestured back to the kitchen.

“Not if it’s Doritos. Or ramen with hotdogs in it.”

“Hey,” Sylvain pouted, “I eat real food now. Can I make you something to eat?”

“Alright, fine.”

It was nice that Sylvain didn’t press him when he was clearly done talking. Or try to tell him it was okay to cry, or any other bullshit attempts at being comforting. Sylvain at least knew him well enough to not give him that. He always just offered to do whatever he could to help, and Felix always found himself accepting it.

Felix’s mouth spoke before his brain could think better of it. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

“Ha, that’s funny,” Sylvain said humorlessly. “I sure don’t think I do. Trial and error, maybe? I’ve had a lot of practice saying the wrong things. That, and rehearsing conversations in my head.” Then Sylvain clapped his hands together and said, “Anyway! How about breakfast for lunch? I make a mean avocado toast.” He reached up to a cabinet for a cutting board. Felix’s eye followed the line of his arm.

“Of course you do.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “I’ll let that one slide. Oh, by the way, how’re your hands feeling?” Sylvain withdrew a frighteningly long serrated knife from a knife block, which made Felix fear for his hands in a new way.

“Oh, they’re good as new.”

“Really?” Surprised, Sylvain looked up from where he was cutting a loaf of bread, making Felix then fear for Sylvain’s hands.

“No, dipshit, it still fucking hurts. The painkillers haven’t even kicked in yet.”

“Ah, typical Felix humor. Checks all the boxes: rude, profane, and not even funny,” said Sylvain disapprovingly. But he was smiling again when he popped the slices of bread into a toaster oven. Didn’t his face ever get tired from all of it?

Felix didn’t respond. It was oddly sad that he hadn’t changed a bit in nearly a year, according to Sylvain. In sharp contrast, Sylvain himself was unrecognizably functional and upbeat. It made Felix almost miss the mess of a roommate from sophomore year. It was embarrassing to be less put-together than Sylvain.

“You’re lucky you live so close to campus,” Sylvain continued, efficiently grabbing plates and utensils. “I know I helped a bunch of people move out. God, that was a pain. Must be easier if your dorm is only twenty minutes away from home.”

“It’s not ‘lucky’ that I live nearby, it’s because my parents didn’t let me apply anywhere out of a 50 mile radius from home. We’ve been through this before,” Felix said impatiently. “And it’s not as easy as living off-campus to begin with. You didn’t have to move out at all.”

Felix cut himself off and took out his phone to start writing a list of the things he wanted dropped off. It distracted him from thinking about why Sylvain lived off-campus.

“Heh, you got me there. Do you want me to put everything on your toast for you? It’s no problem.”

Felix had to admit, he didn’t much feel like twisting a salt grinder right now. “Sure, whatever.” He finally swung his legs off the couch and sat up. It was nice be upright without feeling lightheaded again.

Sylvain pranced in from the kitchen, carrying a plate in each hand on his fingertips like a waiter with a fancy tray. “Tada! The food is served, your majesty,” he said, spinning the plates down onto the coffee table. He went back to the kitchen for utensils and a glass of water for himself, then flopped down on the couch next to Felix.

Taking the first bite, he leaned sideways into Felix to peek at his phone screen, and said, “Oh, are you making a list? You don’t need a toothbrush, I can give you a new one if you want. And I have a lot of books, if you want to read—” Felix elbowed him away.

“First of all, stop looking at my phone. Secondly, I didn’t know you could read.” Sylvain opened his mouth indignantly, but Felix went on, “I need my textbooks, dumbass. For class, not pleasure-reading.”

Sylvain shrugged, taking another bite of his food. “Makes sense. I didn’t think you were capable of pleasure-anything. Oh, and” —he plucked a post-it note he had stuck to the coffee table and stuck it onto Felix’s shoulder— “Here’s my address and the wi-fi password.”

Felix started eating instead of responding, and—oh. It was _good_. Who knew he actually enjoyed avocado toast? Not that he would say so to Sylvain. He took a second bite.

Actually, why not? “This is pretty good,” he conceded.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” laughed Sylvain. “Is it so painful to compliment me?”

Felix cracked a wan smile. “Yes. Very painful. And with my pain tolerance, that’s the last compliment you’ll be getting. I don’t want to pass out again.” Sylvain chuckled and kept eating.

Felix must have been hungrier than he realized, because he somehow finished eating before Sylvain. He must have forgotten to eat breakfast this morning. And at this point, it was just as well.

He watched, morbidly fascinated, as Sylvain continued wolfing down his toast. “Just a sec,” said Sylvain, shoving the last bite into his mouth and chewing outrageously fast to catch up. “Okay. Done. Well, I guess I should show you around?”

“Sure.”

“Alright. So.” Sylvain stood as if to make a proclamation. “This is the living room,” he said, gesturing grandly at nothing in particular.

“I can see that.” It was endearing how empty Sylvain’s head must be.

“Okay, well, you would have to get up to see anything else. Do you need a hand?”

“No thanks. I do still have two of my own.” Felix stood and noticed the painkillers must have taken effect a bit, since he no longer felt the ache flowing continuously on the bruised side of his leg and hip.

“Sweet. We can resume the tour.” Sylvain pointed at the kitchen. “This is the kitchen.” Then at the floor-to-ceiling windows and sliding glass door. “Out there is the balcony.” Then at a sleek wood table with chairs on the opposite side of living room area. “This is the dining table.”

Impatient, Felix said, “Can you show me something that I _can’t_ already see with my eyes? Something behind a door, maybe?”

“Whoa, be nice. I’m getting there.” Sylvain led him past the dining table and down a hallway, pointing at each door way they passed. “This is the bathroom. And here’s the linen closet, feel free to grab a set of towels. And this is the bedroom you’ll be in.” He opened the second to last door and pointed behind him into the room.

The centerpiece of the room was the huge bed, placed against the middle of one wall.It was neatly made up with decorative throw pillows on the lavender and black bedspread, which caught the eye amid the otherwise blank room. And—oh, the divorce pillow.

When Felix had moved out of their shared dorm room at the end of sophomore year, he had accidentally taken one pillow from a set of two. They were both Sylvain’s, but Sylvain had chucked one of them across the room at Felix’s head at some point during sophomore year, and Felix had caught it and held it hostage on his bed for the rest of the year. He had adopted the pillow so thoroughly that he forgot it didn’t belong to him until he was unpacking it and realized it was missing its mate.

As his roommate for junior year, Annette was the one who eventually nicknamed it the divorce pillow, though she had no idea what really caused the roommate break-up.

Now the pillow just held Felix’s attention on the gigantic bed. Windows on the wall opposite the bedroom door artfully cast elongated rectangles of sunlight diagonally across its wide expanse. It looked like a bedroom from a fucking Pottery Barn catalogue.

“This,” Felix asked, blunt with disbelief, “is your guest bedroom?”

“What? No, this is my bedroom.”

“Then what’s the door at the end of the hall?”

“Um, the utility closet and the washer and dryer? It’s a one bedroom apartment, so I’ll sleep on the couch,” said Sylvain. “I’ve done it before. It’s very comfy.”

“Um, you don’t have to do that.” Felix shifted uncomfortably. He had kinda thought this was an actual penthouse. “You _really_ don’t have to do that.”

“It’s only for two weeks,” Sylvain said. Felix thought that was taking it a bit lightly.

In response to his flat stare, Sylvain insisted, “It’s not a problem! And besides, I wouldn’t make my guest sleep on the couch.”

“But...” Felix sputtered, looking for words. “Isn’t this a queen bed?”

Then he realized his mistake. Sylvain’s eyes went from wide to half-lidded in zero seconds as he put on his stupid sultry voice and purred, “Oh! So bold, Felix. Why, it’s almost as if you’re _asking_ to sleep with me.” Felix prayed Sylvain couldn’t see his brain hitting the self-destruct button.

“God, you—shut up,” Felix growled, rubbing his eyes with one hand in exasperation. “Can you just be serious for once in your goddamn life?”

“Oh, I _am_ being serious. We can share my bed if you’d like.”

“It’s not that—” Felix eyed the gorgeous expanse of bed again. “I just don’t want to kick you out of your own room.”

“Especially not after I swept you off of _your own feet_.” Sylvain looked proud of himself as he said it.

Felix groaned. How could Sylvain say dumb shit like that without dying of embarrassment? It made no sense. _Sylvain_ should be the flustered one, yet Felix was the one desperately trying to get the conversation under control.

“I—fine. It doesn’t matter.” Just please stop saying words that could light Felix’s face on fire.

Sylvain backed further into the room and put his hands up in an “alright, you win” kind of posture. “Hey, man, you make a strong argument,” he said. “The bed _is_ big enough for both of us. I’m not about to turn you down in favor of sleeping on the couch.”

Seriously, what the fuck Felix had done in a past life to deserve this kind of punishment? “Every time I forget I why hate you, you just have to remind me, don’t you?”

“You hate me because of my wit? That feels unfair—like people who hate me for my looks! I can’t help the gifts god gave me.” Felix swore Sylvain’s devilish little grin would drive him crazy one day.

And then… the sun must have gone behind a cloud or something, because Felix thought for a moment he was experiencing tunnel vision again. The room faded into darkness and his vision narrowed onto just Sylvain’s face. Sylvain waggled his eyebrows salaciously.

In lieu of a response, Felix darted past Sylvain in the doorway and grabbed the closest pillow from the bed and swung it hard into Sylvain’s back.

Sylvain stumbled a step and whipped around, grabbing another pillow menacingly. “Oh, now you’ve done it,” he said with a mischievous quirk to his lips.

He swung it at Felix’s face, but Felix ducked out of the way and slammed his pillow down on Sylvain’s head. He heard Sylvain laugh gleefully and felt Sylvain’s pillow whack him in the side of the ribs.

“You’re lucky you don’t have any _real_ weapons in this room,” Felix quipped. That wasn’t quite true—there was a rectangular alarm clock on the nightstand, a heavy-looking hardcover book, a set of dumbbells in the corner—

Sylvain advanced with his pillow and a smirk he probably thought looked predatory, but it was about as intimidating as a kitten about to pounce on a foot. Felix grinned and spun evasively away—

His leg hit the edge of the bed, throwing him off balance, sending him stumbling backward into the bed.

With a triumphant cry, Sylvain grabbed the edge of the blanket and swiftly flipped it over Felix, and then shoved his hands under the Felix-shaped lump and rolled Felix (along with his pillow) into the blanket like a burrito. First one turn, which flipped Felix onto his stomach, and then another turn to complete the rotation, Felix’s legs kicking all the while.

“You—fucker!” Felix struggled inside the dim purple glow of his warm cocoon. Sylvain laughed and flipped Felix over another time so he was on his stomach. Felix rolled himself onto his back again, bumping into Sylvain’s knees where he had climbed up and was kneeling on the bed, and managed to pull the rest of the blanket out from where it was tucked underneath him.

Wriggling free, Felix pulled his pillow free from the blanket and backhanded it into Sylvain. (Unintentionally, but it worked out nicely.) Sylvain shoved his pillow directly down onto Felix’s face, swinging a knee over him to straddle Felix and smother him with both hands. “Oof, alright already! I give up,” Felix gasped, his quiet laughter muffled by the pillow. “You win!”

Sylvain instantly lifted the pillow and laughed back down at him. “Oh man, I got you _good_!”

Felix was feeling a little euphoric now; the pillow must have really deprived him of oxygen for a second there. “Home field…advantage,” he panted. “Plus you have, what, several inches and twenty pounds on me?”

“ _At least_ twenty pounds, and don’t you forget it!” Sylvain tossed the pillow down at Felix once more for good measure. Felix batted it aside with one arm.

“Fine, can you get off me now?” Now that Felix was catching his breath, he abruptly felt awkward at being so unguarded.

“Okay, okay.” Sylvain dismounted from him and flopped down on the tousled sheets beside him while Felix wished for his own spontaneous combustion. “And Felix?”

Felix’s pulse pounded in his ears. “Yes?” He turned to look at Sylvain.

Sylvain was looking fondly back at him. “I missed you.”

Felix closed his eyes for a long moment. Those were nice words. They made him feel horrible. He opened his eyes and said defensively, “You could have said so. I assumed you forgot about me entirely.”

Sylvain blinked at him, confused. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me…”

“I never said that. It’s not like I blocked your number or anything. We’re still friends on Facebook.”

“That—that means literally nothing.”

“But—I mean...” Felix floundered. “You just never contacted me again.”

“Well what was I supposed to think?” Sylvain asked, seeming genuinely bewildered. “When I asked you why we weren’t assigned housing together, you just—you texted back, like, ‘oopsie’ or something.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. I would never say ‘oopsie.’”

For once, Sylvain didn’t seem to catch Felix’s attempt at humor. “No, I remember. You said, like, ‘Guess I just forgot to request you. Oh well.’ Or something like that,” Sylvain said, making air quotes with his fingers.

Felix was pretty sure that was _exactly_ what he had said, word for word.

“Which, like—it’s basically the same thing. Just… no explanation.” By the end, Sylvain had passed through annoyance and back to bemusement again. He curled up on his side facing away from Felix. “So yeah, of course I didn’t contact you again.”

“I never said—”

“Actually, forget I said anything. Forgive and forget, right? I said I wouldn’t bring up the past, didn’t I?”

Sitting up, Sylvain leaned back onto his hands and looked out the window. The windowpanes cast a square of light across the side of his face Felix could see. The glow on his skin dimmed as a cloud drifted partially over the afternoon sun.

Felix regretted saying anything, too. He wished he could hear Sylvain say “I missed you” and be able to leave it at that.

“It’s not worth fighting about,” Sylvain said. “I just wanted you to know. That I’d missed you.”

Felix’s mouth tasted like dirt. “I missed you too.”

Sylvain’s gaze flicked back to him with an unusual expression on his face. Was that pity? Felix wished he hadn’t seen it.

“You don’t have to say it if it isn’t true,” said Sylvain. “But really, I meant what I said. It’s good to have you back.”


	3. pajama drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday, May 2nd - Sunday, May 3rd. Felix tries to fall asleep in a new place and can't help remembering another time that he ended up in a less than ideal sleeping situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter, but please check each chapter for content warnings (or if you know me in real life)!

Getting into bed non-sexually with Sylvain was a surreal experience, to say the least.

That evening, Sylvain made a surprisingly delicious dinner of shrimp and broccoli stir-fry with rice. Sylvain did most of the work: chopping the vegetables, mincing the garlic, grating the ginger.Felix, with his hand injured, was relegated to measuring ingredients. Sylvain plunked him down on a chair with the recipe, a bowl, and a set of measuring spoons like he was keeping a child occupied with a science kit. Sriracha, soy sauce, sesame oil, rice wine vinegar, brown sugar, oyster sauce…

Felix stuck resolutely to his word and refused to compliment Sylvain’s cooking twice in one day. But he still ate more than he probably should have.

He decided he would need to stop being so surprised each time Sylvain cooked for him. This was just something new he had to integrate into his understanding of Sylvain. Evidently, Sylvain ate foods requiring some assembly now. Crazy, right?

After dinner, Rodrigue texted Felix back, saying he would bring a suitcase by the apartment building in the morning. Which meant Felix had no choice but to accept a toothbrush and pajamas from Sylvain for the night.

“You don’t have anything… I don’t know, less unholy? Something more god-honoring? Please,” Felix whined upon receiving a puke-yellow Despicable Me t-shirt. Or maybe it would be best described as piss-yellow, if the piss in question was from someone severely dehydrated.

The matching fuzzy minion pants were the part that _really_ deserved a description involving barf, because they were just as vomit-colored as they were vomit-inducing. “Literally anything else,” Felix pleaded. “I’ll actually beg you.” He could feel the static shock just from looking at them.

“An enticing offer…but nope, I’ve got nothing else for you,” replied Sylvain. “Believe it or not, I don’t buy my pajamas to be two sizes too small for me, so the only pajamas I have in your size are from like five years ago.”

Sylvain, meanwhile, was wearing an enviably plain black shirt and red plaid pajama pants. The pants seemed to be flannel—soft, familiar. Felix longed to hold _them_ in his hands instead of the fuzzy abomination he was burdened with. Despicable, indeed.

“Why do you even have these? Anyone with sense would burn these to release the evil spirits trapped inside them,” Felix lamented. If you asked him, it was always cathartic to burn relics from high school.

“Good thing I don’t have sense, then. I don’t want the evil spirits polluting the atmosphere.”

Felix just took the pajamas and left the room in a huff.

He stopped in his tracks at the bathroom door when he realized he didn’t have clean underwear. His brain suggested asking to borrow a pair of Sylvain’s. He shut that idea right down like a pop-up ad.

He decided he would have to give his clothes to Sylvain for washing if he wanted clean underwear tonight. So he called back down the hallway over his shoulder. “Sylvain.”

“Yes, dearie?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “You have a washer and dryer, right?”

“Yes, honey, I’d be happy to do your laundry.” Sylvain’s adoring ‘50s housewife impression managed to be even more annoying than his usual voice, a feat Felix had thought impossible until now.

So Felix stripped down in the bathroom, wondering why the gods enjoyed torturing him. He opened the bathroom door a crack to shove the pile of discarded clothing out with one foot before hurriedly closing the door again.

Even though he was out of view of Sylvain, Felix felt utterly humiliated as he said, “Okay, everything’s out in the hallway.” Because there was something truly awful about letting Sylvain handle his dirty clothes. He turned on the shower to avoid hearing Sylvain’s response.

Felix couldn’t help but sigh as he entered the stream of warm water, shutting the glass shower door behind him. Sylvain’s showers had one of those rainfall showerheads on the ceiling, so he switched the flow of the water to it and let hot water tumble onto his hair and shoulders. He stood for a moment relishing the sensation of it. It was probably the first rich people thing that made him actually understand the appeal.

He picked through the bottles in the golden wire shower caddy. (He briefly noticed the golden wire looked nice against the gleaming white tiles. Was that intentional? Did Sylvain have an aesthetic sense now?) Frowning, he turned all the bottles to see the labels.

Where was the shampoo Sylvain used? Wasn’t it in a black bottle? He could picture it from the dorm room shower: one of those 3-in-1, shampoo-conditioner-body wash things with an overpowering scent that frat-boy types seemed to like.

There was no black bottle. There were, however, _separate_ bottles of shampoo and conditioner from the organic grocery store. Well, that explained why Sylvain smelled like tea tree oil now.

After he showered and toweled off, Felix plaited his hair into his usual nighttime braid and wondered how long he should wait for his clothes. He had no idea how long Sylvain’s washer and dryer took.

Actually, you know what? Fuck it. He left the bathroom wrapped in his towel to pester Sylvain. He strode back into Sylvain’s room.

Sylvain swiveled in his desk chair to face him. “Well, hello there,” he said. “I never noticed you wear your towel like a girl before.” (That was probably because Felix had gone to great lengths to not wear a towel in front of him, since he generally preferred to get dressed _before_ leaving the bathroom.) “How was your shower?” Sylvain asked.

“…It was nice, actually.” The warm rainfall had left Felix in a good mood.

“Glad to hear it.”

Felix sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, and checked his phone on the nightstand. “Can I borrow your charger, by the way?”

“Sure, dude. What’s mine is yours.”

Felix sat on the edge of the bed and idly played a game on his phone, silently pleading to whichever malevolent spirit was haunting him to make time to pass more quickly so he could put real clothes back on. Not that minion pajamas counted as real clothes, of course. But really, it just was one wash and dry cycle; how long could it possibly take?

Finally, _mercifully_ , he heard a machine beeping outside the room. He discovered Sylvain had thrown Felix’s clothes (all darks) in with some clothes of his own. Felix retrieved his underwear, glad he could do it without Sylvain getting any more quips in. Then he felt guilty and ended up folding all the laundry into neat piles in the basket before he retreated to the bathroom again.

And yet, even with the clean underwear, getting dressed still caused Felix tremendous psychic damage.

Felix picked up the shirt. “I refuse to look at you,” he said to the character on the shirt. He turned it inside-out so he wouldn’t have to look at it. He started to do the same with the pants, but he could still see the minions on the reverse side, so he turned them right side-out again.

He returned to Sylvain’s room. “I despise you,” he informed Sylvain, pressing the door closed behind him with a touch of his bare foot.

“Thanks. Nice touch with the shirt,” said Sylvain, glancing back at him and placidly taking in Felix’s entire regrettable outfit. “The tag out at the back of the neck is really a good look for you.” Felix made a sound of disgust.

Sylvain turned his attention back to his desk and resumed typing on his laptop. The rapid tapping of fingers on keys made Felix look up and feel a bit, well, curious. “What are you doing?”

“Homework,” responded Sylvain automatically.

“I can see that, moron. I was asking what you’re writing.”

“It’s—well, an English assignment. It’s complicated, and I’m kind of in the flow of writing it now. Can I tell you once I finish it?” Sylvain’s fingers continued their steady tapping.

“Yeah, sure.” Felix didn’t need to know _that_ badly; he was just making conversation, but he supposed he wouldn’t stop Sylvain from talking about it later if he wanted to. “How much longer do you think you’ll be up?”

“I dunno. Are you in a rush to get to sleep?”

“I was just wondering.” Felix flopped down into the center of the bed and stretching his arms outwards. “It’s not like I have a bedtime.” His fingers brushed a damp area on the bed where he had been sitting earlier.

Shit. He hadn’t thought before sitting on the bed. Guess that was Felix’s side of the bed now.

Sylvain didn’t seem to have noticed. “I guess it depends on how focused I am,” he went on undisturbed. “I have a basic plan written, and it’s just like five more paragraphs. I could get it done quick if you want, but otherwise I tend to go back through my assignments after finishing them.”

Felix eyed the screen. Page 23 of 24. “Huh. Work on it as if I have a bedtime, then.”

Sylvain chuckled, then said, “You can turn off the overhead light if you want. I don’t need it bright as the flames of hell in here. That’ll come soon enough.”

“Everything in due time,” Felix agreed. He hopped up to flick the light switch, leaving the room lit only by the laptop screen backlighting Sylvain and a lamp on the nightstand. The off-white lampshade gave the room a soft buttery glow.

The air in the room was pleasantly warm too, so Felix lay back on the bed (making sure he covered the damp spot this time) and, closing his eyes, let his head loll absently to one side. With his cheek on the blanket, Felix caught another whiff of that tea tree scent.

Somehow, he still had trouble seeing this as Sylvain’s room. This room felt transitory, in the “nothing on the walls” way rather than “walls covered in posters hung with thumbtacks” way. Nice, tasteful, but devoid of personality like an Airbnb. The most lively thing in the room was a full-length standing mirror leaning against the wall in one corner, and only because Felix could see himself in it.

There was also a bulletin board over the desk, covered in the ticket stubs, photo booth pictures, and postcards, the same one that had hung over Sylvain’s desk last year. But it was a constructed display, a memory box mounted on the wall.

The only thing in the room that really seemed to show Sylvain lived here without meaning to was the purple bedspread with a black pattern on it that reminded Felix of lace. It stirred some vague memory in him, something he couldn’t put his finger on. It wasn’t the same bedspread that had been on Sylvain’s twin XL last year, but—he stopped looking at it.

Maybe it was the lack of posters that bothered him most? But then again, maybe that was an improvement. It was probably better not to have Sylvain’s favorite video game characters staring down at him as he slept.

So maybe Felix was just having trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that he would be living here for god-knows-how-long, staring at empty walls and desk shelves and sleeping in Sylvain’s queen bed.

“Why English?” Felix abruptly asked into the empty air.

“Hmm? Why write in my native language?” Sylvain didn’t swivel his chair, but that was fine, Felix didn’t mind talking to Sylvain’s back. He kind of preferred it.

“No, wiseass, why study English?”

Sylvain’s swift typing stopped. “Usually when people ask me, I say, ‘to get away from pre-med, of course.’ But for you, I’ll try come up with a unique answer.”

For a moment, the only sound was Sylvain tapping away on the keyboard. “Okay, I’ve got some options: ‘As you may have noticed, I have a way with words.’ Or maybe, ‘To practice making arguments so I never lose to you.’ Or maybe, ‘I’m on a never-ending search for the words to capture your beauty.’”

He paused his typing. “On second thought, I think these are getting worse the longer I think about them. See, I _don’t_ always know the right thing to say. I’ve failed you.”

“Wow, you really do spend all your time trying out lines in your head, huh? Pretty pathetic.”

“Thanks, Fe, I knew you’d come to appreciate my creative process.” He resumed typing and then— “Fuck. Sorry. You don’t like being called Fe, do you? Whoops.”

“I don’t actually _hate_ it,” Felix admitted, “I just didn’t like everyone calling me that.” His heart plummeted as a thought struck him. Wasn’t Glenn was the one who first called him Fe? It had been so long now, but it was one of those sibling-nicknames you don’t let many other people call you by.

“Yeah, sorry. I won’t call you that anymore.”

“You can, though.” Felix hesitated, then went on, “As long as it’s not around other people.”

“Heh, I can promise you, I’ll have no problem with that rule. There are no other people around anymore.”

“Yeah, true.”

“It’s just—well, to be honest, when Ingrid talks to me about you, she still calls you Fe sometimes. Only on the phone and stuff like that. So I guess that’s why I said it. But really, if you dislike it, I don’t have to call you that.”

Thinking of Ingrid sent a wave of emotion through Felix, because Ingrid was one of the few who hadn’t learned the nickname from him. She had picked it up directly from Glenn.

“I don’t… dislike it, either,” Felix said cautiously.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” This moment felt consequential somehow.

“Certain?”

“Yes. I’m certain,” Felix said.

“Absolutely? Positively? You’re sure that you…”

“You’re just trying to get me to say I like it, aren’t you? You’re such a jerk,” Felix said, annoyed that Sylvain was ruining his big emotionally consequential moment.

Finally shutting his laptop, Sylvain stood from his chair and laughed. “I was just trying to keep you occupied until I finished the assignment. But I’m flattered that you think I have nefarious plans for you.”

“Don’t you?”

Sylvain fixed Felix with his unbreakable gaze again, smiling. There must be something addictive about that smile. “I’d be willing to come up with some nefarious plans if you want me to, babe,” he said.

For a second, Felix’s mind parsed the words as _if you want me too, babe_. A mental typo.

Sylvain playfully shoved Felix further to his (still damp) side of the bed so Sylvain could get under the covers on his (dry) side. Felix got under the covers too, and turned to lay on his side facing the wall.

On his injured side. His body took that opportunity to loudly remind him of his mistakes. Sighing to himself, he turned to lay on his uninjured side, facing Sylvain. What else was there to do? He was a side sleeper, but he still didn’t want to make it even more awkward than it needed to be.

Sylvain, who was laying on his back, seemed to be thinking along the same lines. He turned off the lamp, cleared his throat and said, “I don’t want to ruin the great time we’re having, but seriously, if you’re at all uncomfortable with this, just let me know and I’ll sleep on the couch. Since this is all my fault, after all.” Felix didn’t respond.

“Or you can go sleep on the couch yourself, if you prefer. And I can find you a hotel room tomorrow if you want. I just… I feel like I didn’t emphasize that enough. I am not at all trying to pressure you to stay here.”

There was a sinking sensation in his chest. Felix felt unbearably guilty. “No, really, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I do—” Sylvain glanced over his shoulder and seemed surprised to make eye contact with Felix, brown eyes blinking in the dark. “I do worry about it.” His voice was reduced to little more than a whisper, his heartbreakingly open face aimed squarely at Felix.

“You don’t need to,” Felix said, unintentionally matching Sylvain’s whisper. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his vision made Sylvain look like a painting in black and white. He couldn’t bear to look.

This all felt wrong. There was no universe in which Sylvain should be the one asking Felix for permission or forgiveness. Those weren’t things Felix was qualified to give. He wished Sylvain would just keep pushing his luck the way he used to.

If only Sylvain would just…needle him, tirelessly, and get too close to him again. Then maybe Felix could push him away without remorse. Felix used to be able to do it and feel fine about it, knowing that no matter how hard he pushed, Sylvain would always come back for more. But that wasn’t how it worked anymore.

Felix didn’t like making concessions. Instead, he only said, “I’m sleeping here tonight. And if you also want to sleep here… It’s your bed.” That would do for now, right?

Sylvain didn’t respond for two solid heartbeats.

“I’m tired now, but tomorrow you’ll have to tell me about what you were writing,” Felix said, to show he hadn’t forgotten. “No chickening out.”

Sylvain sighed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” But he still sounded…upset.

“Good, because” —Felix felt like he was losing his mind— “I hope you have good dreams tonight.”

“Okay. Same to you. Goodnight, Felix.”

“Goodnight.” That would have to be enough.

Felix heard Sylvain’s breathing become slow and steady. He wished sleep came so easily to him. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift until he could truly fall asleep.

_Freshman year, August 2017. Move in day. A comforting memory, if a bit boring._

_Felix was grateful that his financial aid included a stipend for on-campus housing. Commuting from home would have made it even more clear that he was here on a partial scholarship for students local to the area._

_He didn’t need that kind of scrutiny; the imposter syndrome was bad enough already. Not to mention, the commute on public transit would have been terrible, and his family had already sold Glenn’s car._

_With his two suitcase handles gripped in one hand, Felix traced along the hallway with the fingers of his other hand as he turned the corner, scanning the doors for his room number. Found it. Unlocked the door._

_“Hello. I’m Linhardt,” his roommate greeted him. “I’ll be taking this bed, if you don’t mind. Goodnight.”_ _He settled in for a nap with the mattress still bare. It was noon._

_Felix’s new roommate was a boy about his height, maybe a bit taller, with green hair that was somehow a blunt, girlish bob and a long ponytail at the same time. (Or was that a rattail? Felix wasn’t sure what to call it). Linhardt had mentioned to Felix that he skipped a grade, and sure enough, he seemed a little young to be in college._

_That was how Felix ended up with the bed next to the window and far away from the air vent. Linhardt must have scoped out his bed with comfort in mind, too. The difference was that he had gotten there first. Felix really would have liked not to have the sun in his eyes first thing in the morning every day, but Linhardt must have thought of that too._

_This will be enough, Felix reminded himself. He was here to study, and work, and graduate with a degree. He wasn’t expecting college to be the time of his life. It was just the next step he had to take. So it would be fine, even if he didn’t like the dining hall food, or get adequate sleep, or make any friends. This would be enough._

_Felix had found Linhardt to be his roommate from a group online and strategically chosen him based on three criteria: Wouldn’t bother him. Wouldn’t live like a slob. Wouldn’t bring hook ups home every night. Linhardt had assured him that the bed was a sacred space for sleeping. And, he had told Felix, he would prefer to go to someone else’s room to hook up anyway._

_Other than the bright sunlight and heat that radiated from the window, Felix found their shared room was a nice place to be. Linhardt kept to himself for the most part (as promised), but he had a dry sense of humor and was unexpectedly thoughtful._

_Linhardt was usually asleep during the day and went out who-knows-where most nights, but on the rare occasion that Felix and Linhardt were both awake in the room at the same time, they talked. Felix would complain about something, Linhardt would mention something interesting he had read that day, and they would end up talking about ethics and physics and human psychology, about why there was greed and conflict in the world, about what the meaning of life was if everyone had to die._

_And Linhardt kept his word about not being a slob. Well, for everything except books. He had huge tomes stacked haphazardly on every available surface. Rather than the teenage boy body odor Felix had feared, Linhardt just brought with him the smell of old books. And he actually read them!_

_Felix could respect that Linhardt was dedicated to his studies. Even if he never actually saw Linhardt go to class. Even if Linhardt was a peace studies and philosophy double major._

The next morning, Felix somehow woke up before Sylvain, despite falling asleep long after him.

It was disorienting to wake up and see an unfamiliar ceiling. He sat up, recalled where he was, and then looked out the bedroom window, watching clouds drift slowly across the early morning sky. He lay back down to savor the phantom warmth under the covers and the aftereffects of a decent night’s sleep. He had slept quite deeply, for some reason.

It took him a moment to locate Sylvain, who had curled up like a pill-bug at some point in the night. He had also somehow shifted two feet down from the pillow. His head was about level with Felix’s stomach and bent knees.

Felix was glad he hadn’t rolled over onto his bruised side during the night, not only because he would have been laying on bruises, but also because then Sylvain’s face would have ended up in—

Sylvain stirred. He pulled the blanket tighter under his chin and nuzzled his face into it.

“Are you awake?” Felix asked after a moment.

Sylvain shook his head. Felix couldn’t help but find that amusing.

“Yes you are.”

“Noooooo.” Sylvain moved to pull the blanket over his face.

Felix caught his wrist. “How the hell did you fall asleep before me and still sleep in later than me?”

Sylvain rolled onto his back, and Felix realized he had been curled up with the divorce pillow hugged to his chest. “Aw, Felix, were you watching me sleep? Creepy, but kinda cute.” Sylvain stretched his arms over his head with a lazy, supine ease that reminded Felix of a cat, humming contentedly as he did so.

“Shut up,” was Felix’s automatic response.

Sylvain scooted up so his head was on the pillow again. “Nah, but for real, it’s probably the sleep deprivation.”

Felix leveled a blank stare at him. “The sleep deprivation,” he repeated.

“I do my best work sleep deprived,” Sylvain said sheepishly. “So I, uh… hadn’t slept since I woke up on Friday morning. You know. Since I was planning on writing that thing last night.”

Felix raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “That’s your productivity strategy? No wonder you’re brain damaged.”

“Heh, thanks Felix. I can always count on you to tell it like it is.” Despite his earlier stretching, Sylvain seemed ready to go back to sleep. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea if he was sleep deprived.

“Hey,” Sylvain murmured, closed eyelids fluttering, “would you… nah, never mind.”

That lit a fire in Felix. “What were you going to say?”

“Nah, really, it’s not important.”

“Just tell me,” Felix said, increasingly insistent. He was too nosy for his own good, and he knew it. _Would you…_ “Would I what?”

“Hmm, nope,” said Sylvain, relaxed and unperturbed.

“Sylvain…” said Felix, a warning tone in his voice. The little cupid’s bow of Sylvain’s mouth twitched. Bastard. “You’re trying not to laugh, aren’t you? You’re mocking me.”

Sylvain’s smile shone through. “Heh, pretty much. I didn’t even plan to mock you, but you just make it too easy.”

Annoyed, Felix snapped, “Did you even have anything to say in the first place?”

“Ha ha, you _still_ want to know! Can’t help yourself, can you?” Sylvain laughed, still luxuriating in shifting around on the sheets, so at ease that it made Felix jealous. “I was about to ask if you would be willing make me breakfast in bed, but then I changed my mind. I’m not sure I trust you with my stove.”

“I didn’t realize you were the proud father of a stove.”

With an extravagant flourish, Sylvain threw back the blanket and rolled dramatically out of bed. “Well,” he said, “I was more concerned about you handling fire. But luckily for you, I have cereal and I’m impatient.”

Felix allowed himself a moment in the room alone to comb his hair with his fingers and twist it into a bun while he gathered the willpower to get out of bed. Then he followed Sylvain to find him sitting on a barstool at the island in the kitchen.

Sylvain had already inhaled a bowl of cereal. He stood up like he had too much kinetic energy to contain and said, “Can I get you coffee? Or tea?” From a cabinet near his head, Sylvain pulled out a mug that looked like it could hold upwards of 20 ounces. The coffee machine gave a few last splutters as it finished brewing.

“Uh, no thanks,” Felix said, “I’m taking this opportunity to get some time away from caffeine.” (He had secretly hoped it would help with his sleep-onset insomnia, but no luck yet.)

“Right on, man. Say no to drugs,” Sylvain said while he filled the mug with coffee. He added a splash of milk and three spoonfuls of sugar, which was actually not a lot considering the sheer volume of coffee. Then he went for a second helping of cereal.

“Want some?” asked Sylvain, gesturing with his chin at cereal box as he refilled his bowl. The cereal pouring into the bowl made a pleasant (and appetizing) _ping ping ping_ sound as it bounced against the ceramic. Felix nodded and sat at the adjacent side of the island as Sylvain poured his milk. “How’s your hand feeling?”

“About the same, but a day later.”

“Fascinating! By the way, when are we supposed to go pick up your stuff?”

Felix clicked his phone so the screen lit up. “In about an hour.”

“Okay, great,” said Sylvain. He slid a bowl, the box of cereal, and the carton of milk toward Felix. “We’ll get changed and go wait in the lobby.” _We._

“You don’t have to come with me,” Felix said. “I’ll just get it myself.”

“I insist! It’s like a field trip.” Sylvain cheerfully began shoveling down his second bowl. He quickly finished it off and headed back to the bedroom to change, leaving Felix still working his finishing his first bowl.

After breakfast, Felix anticipated the sweet, sweet relief of taking off his horrendous pajama pants. He opened Sylvain’s bedroom door, planning to do just that.

The door opened to a view of Sylvain’s back, bare skin revealing itself inch by inch as Sylvain pulled his shirt over his head by the collar. Felix’s eyes followed the hem upward, from the low waistband of Sylvain’s plaid pants, to where the back of Sylvain’s neck disappeared into his red hair. Sylvain began to turn around as he heard the door open, his shirt still dangling around his wrists.

Felix slammed the door shut. He turned and pressed his back into the door, heart pounding, leaning his weight on it as if Sylvain would try to open it any second now. “I—I forgot to brush my teeth.” Felix fled to the bathroom and slammed that door too for good measure.

It felt like there were gears grinding painfully against each other in his head, refusing to mesh correctly. He grabbed his toothbrush (new, given to him by Sylvain) and caught his own eye in the mirror over the sink. His expression was frozen in panic like a deer in the headlights, but he quickly rearranged his features into an annoyed scowl to better represent his confusion, surprise, and—

He shook his head like a dog shaking off water and again looked down at his toothbrush. He ran it under the water and raised it to his mouth before realizing he hadn’t put any toothpaste. He squeezed out some toothpaste. Sylvain’s toothpaste.

He paused, toothbrush raised to his shut lips. His eyes flicked up to his face in the mirror again. He willed himself to open his mouth, watched in the mirror as his reflection’s lips parted in anticipation of the toothbrush, glimpsed his wet tongue—

Fuck. God, what was wrong with him? Felix squeezed his eyes shut. His stomach churned painfully. He braced his other hand on the sink, feeling like he was only seconds from losing his balance. He inhaled. Exhaled. Opened his eyes. His mouth felt like it was filling up with saliva.

The trick, he had learned, was to not feel anything.

He spat into the sink. He felt saliva pooling again between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, so he turned on the faucet and spat again. He put the toothbrush in his mouth and made a concerted effort to scrub every tooth. Front, back, and making sure to include the gum line. Then he spat and rinsed his mouth until the taste of toothpaste was gone.

Good. Fine. He straightened up and fiercely faced himself the mirror. The world had come back into focus.

He exited the bathroom a moment later, looking and feeling normal. He hoped.

With his gaze directed at the hardwood floor, Felix pushed open the bedroom door again and strode into the room. He could sense Sylvain’s presence by the open door to his closet on the other side of the freshly made bed.

Felix grabbed his folded clothes from the day before off Sylvain’s dresser, tucked his thumbs into his pajama bottoms, and dropped them to the ground in one smooth motion. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sylvain jump at the sound of them falling to the floor. Felix promptly turned off his peripheral vision.

He pulled on his jeans, regretting his choice to wear skinny jeans yesterday. He had to tug to get them on. He hardly paid attention when the side of his bruised thigh burned at the treatment, except to detachedly notice the gnarly blue and purple pattern extending up it, reaching almost to the crest of his hipbone.

“Are you good, Felix?”

“Yep, just fine. I just felt a little nauseous and wanted to brush my teeth.” Felix yanked off Sylvain’s hideous pajama shirt, twisting purposefully away from Sylvain’s gaze. He quickly pulled on his own shirt, saying, “Come on. My dad will be here soon.”

They rode the elevator down in silence. Felix had ruined things between them. Again.

Soon they stood in the lobby. “He said he’ll just leave it outside the door and text me,” Felix read from his phone. “I’ll just go out and grab it.”

A few awkward moments later, and Felix’s phone chirped. He craned his neck, peering out the glass door to see the suitcase standing on the sidewalk outside the apartment building. He darted out the door and was viscerally reminded of Sylvain darting out the day before.

“Got it?” Sylvain’s ever cheery voice rang out as soon as Felix was back inside. “Great,” he said, not needing an answer. “Hopefully it has everything you need.” There really was no response to that. Sylvain fell silent again during the elevator ride back up.

Sylvain unlocked the front door to his apartment. The sound of the key in the lock made Felix feel like he was being escorted into his prison cell. And, given the circumstances, wasn’t he? Sylvain went to wash his hands in the kitchen sink, so Felix left the suitcase standing in the entrance and went to wash his hands in the bathroom.

He hoisted the suitcase onto the coffee table as soon as he got back and sat on the couch to unzip it.

Sylvain hovered nervously behind the couch as Felix examined the suitcase’s contents. Felix took out his laptop first, then his books, and then fished out some of the clothes, one garment at a time, to see what was underneath.

He frowned. He dug around again.

As he began flat-out piling clothes onto the couch beside him, Sylvain asked, “Uh, Felix? Everything ok?”

Felix didn’t respond. He ripped through the suitcase, cataloguing everything—every shirt, every sock, every pair of pants—until there was nothing left. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s—fucking—god, I can’t believe—there are no pajamas.” Felix whipped his head around to fix Sylvain with a look that was downright _furious_.

Sylvain looked stricken, until realization sank in and his mouth spread into a slow smile, showcasing a gleam of his perfect white teeth. Sylvain chuckled, and Felix bolted upright.

“It’s not funny!”

“Dude, come on, you have to admit it’s a little funny.”

Felix growled and stormed away to the bedroom.

Within a minute, Felix announced his return by flinging the piss-colored pajama shirt at Sylvain’s head. Sylvain caught it and laughed anew as Felix threw a tiny, well-contained temper tantrum, plunking himself down on the couch and wrestling his clothes back in the suitcase.

He laughed as Felix marched to the bedroom a second time and emerged with a glint in his eyes, brandishing the fuzzy pants like a weapon.

“Oh my god, Felix—” Sylvain laughed so hard that he gasped for breath as Felix planted a hand on his chest and shoved him flat onto the couch, whipping him one, two, three times across the chest with the polyester monstrosity. Sylvain just held his arms in front of his face in self-defense and twisted onto his side and howled with laughter.

“I’m not wearing this shit again,” Felix snarled. “I will wear different pajamas tonight even if I have to steal them off your corpse.” Sylvain laughed at that too.

Felix finally left Sylvain on the couch with his hands tied together behind his back by pajama pants. Felix grabbed a stack of clothes that hadn’t made it back into the suitcase, stomped back to the bedroom, and slammed the door for effect. He felt a tug at the corners of his lips at the distant sound of Sylvain still wheezing and cackling intermittently.

As he finally changed into a less-tight pair of jeans, he pictured Sylvain in the other room—breathless and squirming to break free, hair mussed and wild, grinning madly.

There was definitely something addictive about that smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've chosen to stick with each character's pre-timeskip appearance as their default appearance, including height and haircut, thus Linhardt's horrendous rattail. But in this fic they are all roughly the same age, meaning they're all born in 1998 or 1999.
> 
> And yet, I left the day and month of everyone's birthdays the same, so now some characters who were the oldest characters (Sylvain, Mercedes) are now actually younger than some of the younger ones (Felix, Annette)... anyway! We're having fun and that's what's important.


	4. imbalancing act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday, May 3rd. Sylvain wishes he could get struck by lightning a little less often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter, but please check each chapter for content warnings (or if you know me in real life)!

Sylvain couldn’t have been happier. As he caught his breath and wiggled out of his bindings, he couldn’t help but be overjoyed that Felix had suddenly crashed back into his life. It was not the first time in the past twenty-four hours that he had felt this way.

Christ, he really had it bad for Felix. It was too bad all Felix wanted to do was whip the fuck out of him. Though he supposed he was enjoying that too; Felix already had him whipped as fuck, literally and figuratively.

But even though he was giddy at the prospect of spending time with Felix again, the pit of unease in his stomach that had grown during Felix’s year-long absence from his life didn’t just disappear.

Sylvain successfully disentangled himself and regarded the pajamas Felix loathed with something like appreciation. It was just too fun to mess with him. “Hey Felix?” he called toward the bedroom.

“What?” he heard Felix snap through the closed door.

“Want me to order you new pajamas?”

Felix made some incoherent exasperated sound, which made Sylvain smile again. He could easily picture Felix facepalming in his mind’s eye. It was a habit of Felix’s (especially frequent around Sylvain) that Sylvain was pretty sure he wasn’t even aware of.

Felix called back, “You don’t have an oversized shirt or something I can borrow?”

Wow, what a picture _that_ was: Felix, with his dark hair in its usual messy bun, showing off the silver spikes of his ear piercings while he wore a baggy shirt like a nightgown, sleeves too long for his arms, legs bare…

“Actually, fine, buy me pajamas,” Felix said, cutting off Sylvain’s train of thought. Which was probably for the best. “I feel like you owe me for what you’ve put me through.”

“Great. How do you feel about the emoji movie?”

Another garbled sound of frustration emanated from the room. “Literally, just—go fuck yourself, Sylvain.”

His cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much. Felix just kept giving him more material to work with. “ _Literally_ go fuck myself? Alright, did you want to me come over there so you can watch, or—”

“Die in a fire, Sylvain.”

Sylvain could almost hear Felix gritting his teeth as he said it. He loved hearing his name from Felix’s mouth, even when Felix said it in the same tone he used to say “moron” and “manwhore”.

Felix spoke up again, saying, “You know what? I’ll just pick something and send you the link.” Something about the tone of Felix’s voice told him the matter was settled.

Sylvain approached the door and knocked on it, asking, “Can I come in? I’ll clear out a drawer for your clothes.” Once spoken aloud, the domesticity of the idea sent his heart into overdrive. A drawer at his place for Felix. Oh dear god.

Felix opened the door rather than responding and met Sylvain with his usual flat expression. “Fine,” he said.

Sylvain followed through on his offer, consolidating his clothes into just three of the five drawers of his dresser. It was easy, since none of his drawers were very full to begin with. Even though he had lived here for nearly a year, the space itself still felt too big for one person. Even a one bedroom apartment was really meant for two people.

But now there _would_ be two of them. At least temporarily. Sylvain felt another pang in his chest.

“Thanks.” Sylvain jumped at the sound of Felix’s voice right over his shoulder. He really needed to stop daydreaming around Felix.

“No problem! I actually emptied _two_ drawers for you,” Sylvain responded, trying to sound lighthearted, like he wasn’t pining for the very person he was talking to.

It seemed to work, because Felix made a “hmph” sound at him and hip-checked him to one side so he could start filling the drawers. Sylvain willingly gave way to the side of Felix’s hip bumping into his. Ah, he loved how Felix, who was nearly five inches shorter than him, still liked to push him around. It was cute that he thought he really could.

Oh no. He was doing the daydreaming thing again. He was starting to wonder if he had bitten off more than he could chew.

It had seemed like a great idea yesterday, albeit coming from an unfortunate situation. Sylvain sure hadn’t meant to bump into anyone, but out of all the people to get stuck with, Felix was the absolute _best_ person to bump into. At least in Sylvain’s book.

And what a coincidence, running into Felix when he had just been thinking about him recently! And by “recently”, he meant “nonstop” and “intensely” and “for a very long time”.

But really, he had just been missing Felix’s friendship, wondering what would happen if he texted him again. Or called him, or skyped him or whatever. Quarantine gave one plenty of time to think.

And then the universe had handed him this, and he pictured it all in a flash—how Felix would see how much he had changed, how they would hang out again, smooth over the previous bumps in their relationship, and… maybe they would even live together again senior year?

Well, it was all fun and games until Sylvain realized Felix still made his chest ache. Now Sylvain saw that he had signed up for at least two weeks of exquisite torment.

Anyway, as Felix was unpacking his stuff, Sylvain collapsed back onto the bed with his phone in hand to check his messages. The screen showed eight messages from Ingrid before he moved to unlock it.

_wow, what a wild coincidence! almost like… fate?!?_

_jk. come to think of it tho, i feel like i hadnt heard from him in a while either_

_have you… talked stuff out?_

_or are yall just, uh, ignoring it?_

_bc i feel like thats something you two would do_

_im also a bit of a felix expert if you need advice, you know_

_you can text me for backup support whenever_

_im here for you buddy <3_

Sylvain wrote back:

_ugh ingrid you are so sweet, thank you_

_and no we haven’t really talked about anything very serious…._

_besides glenn, since its the anniversary…_

_it just woulda felt wrong not to say anything, so??_

_but yeah he actually kinda opened up for once????_

_and i’m always here for you too, btw <3_

Ingrid must have had her phone on hand, because she replied instantly.

_love you too pal_

_tho i dont forgive you for making me lie to felix_

_?????????_

_about you having the hots for him? lol_

_i told you i’m over that!!_

_yeah i know thats what you told me, but…_

_i just dont believe you_

_and also wtf, why did u have to lie?_

_did you bring it up with him??_

_or did he like. ASK?????_

_oh, no no no_

_its more like lying by omission_

_oh thank god._

_for a sec i really asked myself:_

_would i rather have you tell him i’m gay for him_

_or have you tell him i’m NOT gay for him_

_hahaha_

_both bad options, really_

_luckily i have done neither_

_thank u for keeping my gayness an unspecified secret_

_no prob_

_tho tbh…idk how you’re getting away with it_

_since youre all heart-eyes and sob emoji over him_

_i am not!!_

_you are…_

_like. constantly._

_oh also i saw this pandemic meme and it reminded me of you <3_

She sent a screenshot which read: “hey fellas is it gay to start jackin it at 3am when you’re missing the homies”

_stoppppp i take it all back we aren’t friends anymore_

_youre just mad you wont be jacking it for two weeks_

_you’re right. because i have morals and respect for others._

_so not in the bed… but no promises about the shower ;)_

_ew ew ew i dont want to know that!_

_dislike. unyeah._

_well don’t bring it up if you can’t handle the truth!!_

_hmmmm do u ever wonder if felix could handle the truth tho?_

_just a thought…. ¯\\_(_ ツ _)_/¯_

_oh, felix can handle whatever he wants ;)_

_why do i put up with you_

_i add flavor to your life. you’re welcome_

Ingrid didn’t respond. Sylvain figured that yeah, that was probably fair.

“Would you mind if I open the window?”

Sylvain looked up at the sound of Felix’s voice to find him already poised with his fingers on the window latch. “Oh, uh, sure. Feel free. I don’t think I’ve ever actually opened that window before. Like, the kitchen window, yes, but not the bedroom window.”

“Why not?” Felix asked. “It’s a beautiful day.” Felix was right—it was the first day of the whole year that leaned closer to summer than winter on the spectrum of possible spring weather.

The honest answer would be that the heat and air conditioning in the building were so good that there was no need to open a window. “Uh, I just never think of it, I guess,” said Sylvain.

“You don’t mind if I open it, though?”

“No, go right ahead.”

“Thanks.” Felix flipped the latch and slid the window open. “I heard it’s supposed to rain later today.”

“Then shouldn’t we be...closing it?”

“Oh. I just like the sound of the rain.” He shrugged and gestured back at the window. The faint noise of cars on the street twelve stories below floated through the open space. “Should I close it when it starts raining?

“Nah, that’s fine. Well, I’ll give you some space to unpack. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

Sylvain settled on the couch, playstation controller in hand. If quarantine was good for anything (besides preventing needless illness and death), it was good for catching up on unplayed video games.

About half an hour later, it started raining. Just as Felix had said.

After an hour of Man of Medan, Felix padded into the room and joined him on the couch, sitting as far away as humanly possible. “So, you got tired of listening to the rain?” Sylvain asked.

“You can still hear it from here, idiot,” said Felix. “What are you playing?”

“Man of Medan. It’s from the same people who made Until Dawn.”

“Until Dawn?”

“Oh, did I never tell you about it? It’s, like, a campy survival horror game with a branching storyline.”

“So, like Life is Strange?”

Sylvain paused the game, putting down the controller and rolling his wrists in circles. “Well, yes, in that your choices influence the storyline. Butterfly effect. But in terms of tone, it’s more along the lines of The Walking Dead. Except more campy.”

“The Walking Dead, the TV show?”

That really got Sylvain’s attention. He turned to stare at Felix, who blinked at him, aggravated. “What? Don’t look at me like that.”

“Oh dude, you haven’t played The Walking Dead? The video game? Hold the fucking phone.” He snatched the controller back up and quit Man of Medan to set up The Walking Dead instead. “You _must_ play it. I’m so sorry, but my house, my rules.”

Felix rolled his eyes, feigning reluctance. “Whatever you say.” He accepted the controller Sylvain passed to him and started the game. 

“Oh, you’re so fucking welcome, my dude. This is like, _the_ Telltale game to play if you’re only gonna play one of them. Wow, I’m kind honored to be able to witness this.” Felix clucked his tongue in annoyance.

But then he was playing the game, with Sylvain watching delightedly. He couldn’t resist sneaking in little bits of trivia and his own commentary as Felix played.

It was a weird kind of psychoanalysis to watch someone else play a choice-based game. And it was one of Sylvain’s favorite things.

That, and seeing Felix get more and more invested in it until he couldn’t maintain the facade of annoyance anymore. Felix finished the first episode, clutching the controller tightly. He turned to Sylvain with a look that was equally sheepish and excited. “Ok, yeah, I like it. Can I… keep playing? Or did you want to get back to your other game at some point?”

That wrung a smile out of Sylvain. “Oh, by all means, do continue! But also, do you want something for late lunch?”

“I guess,” Felix said, already turning his attention back to the screen. Cutely determined.

Sylvain hopped up from his seat and said, “Anything in particular you’re craving?”

“Not really.”

“You don’t make my job easy, do you?”

Felix pretended he didn’t care about food, but Sylvain had learned from experience that Felix was just a picky eater and kept his food preferences vague on purpose to hide it. But Sylvain remembered at least a few of the things he would eat.

He returned with grilled cheeses for both of them and was quickly reabsorbed in Felix’s playthrough of the second episode. The rain outside had intensified into a downpour, and Sylvain noticed that yes, he actually _did_ like the sound of the rain and the sight of the raindrops pelting the balcony, now that he took the time to think about it.

He also noticed Felix had an adorable tendency to physically startle whenever there were quicktime eventsto react to. Felix nearly flung the controller out of his hands at one point. Luckily when Sylvain laughed at his jumpiness, he had loosened up enough to laugh at himself too.

And then he finished that episode. Again, he glanced at Sylvain for permission to keep going, and Sylvain started nodding before he suddenly remembered— “Oh, oops, I meant to take a shower and completely forgot this morning because we went to get your stuff.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

Sylvain waved a hand dismissively. “Oh no, it’s no problem, I just—would it be weird if I asked you to hold off on playing the next episode? I like watching.”

Felix’s mouth quirked up in a little smile. “Sure.” Was he this cute all the time? Just that little smile made Sylvain’s heart flutter. Fuck. He had been doing such a good job of being a normal, regular, no homo sort of friend until now.

He stood quickly, trying to calm his stupid gay feelings. “Okay, thanks, I’ll just—”

Lightning flashed outside, and a boom of thunder shook the floor a second later, drowning out the rest of his sentence. The wind picked up in intensity and made drops of rain splatter against the glass separating them from the balcony.

“Damn,” said Felix. “Guess I’d better go close the window.” Felix trailed Sylvain to the bedroom. The window screeched as he pulled it shut.

“Thanks. Well, I’m gonna go shower.”

Felix arched an eyebrow. “Hmm, you sure about that?”

That launched them into a ten minute debate about whether it was possible to die from showering in a thunderstorm. It was a little funny. For the first minute or so. But Felix kept coming up with more and more ridiculous comebacks.

“No. Seriously,” Sylvain said, patience wearing thin. “No, you can’t. That’s not how electrocution works. This has already been myth-busted. You can look it up.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Felix insisted. “And in fact, it’s even _more_ likely the higher up you live in a building. And you live on the twelfth floor, so it could be disastrous.”

“Felix, I swear to god—that absolutely, and I say this emphatically, _cannot possibly be true_.”

“Yes it is! It hits the building and then goes through the pipes.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it!”

Felix met his eyes, deadly serious. “My cousin’s husband’s best friend died after being struck by lightning in the shower of a country club locker room.”

Sylvain’s mouth fell open. “Okay, now you’re just fucking with me. I know for a fact that none of your cousins are above the age of twelve.”

“Ha. Took you long enough. I’ve just been fucking with you the whole time.”

Sylvain groaned and wiped his hands down his face. “Why? Is this revenge?”

Felix’s mouth twisted like he was wrestling down a smile. “Revenge for what?”

Good question. There were too many possible answers. “I—I’m not answering that. I plead the fifth—” Another boom of thunder made the walls shake around them.

“So you admit that you would incriminate yourself,” Felix said.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure that’s not how pleading the fifth works,” Sylvain pointed out. “In fact, that’s like the opposite of how it works.”

And then the lights flickered and went out. They both fell silent.

Sylvain was the first to speak. “Well, fuck.”

“Okay, well—I admit I was fucking with you about showering in a thunderstorm, but I’m not kidding when I say showering in the dark is asking for disaster,” said Felix. “Your bathroom doesn’t have a window. It would be pitch black in there.”

“Well if _someone_ hadn’t started an unnecessary argument, I could have been in and out of the shower by now!”

“I’m not saying you can’t take a shower, just—do you have matches?”

“You want me to light matches? In the shower?”

“No, idiot,” Felix laughed. “Light a candle into the bathroom.” And Sylvain had to admit, that did make sense. And he did own three pillar candles he had never even lit before.

And thus, Sylvain took a bizarrely sensual shower by dim candlelight, and couldn’t stop thinking about Felix, and kept hearing Ingrid’s voice in his head talking about jacking off—so in short, it was still a disaster anyway.

About fifteen minutes later, he returned to the living room, freshly shampooed, wearing pajamas again, and feeling…different.

Felix, it seemed, had stolen a set of pajamas from his drawers. They hung loosely on him, the neckline skewing much lower on his chest than it was meant to. Felix was sitting on the couch doing something on his phone, which was plugged into an outlet near the TV.

“You know that’s not charging, right?” asked Sylvain as he reached a hand up to shake out his wet hair.

“Oh yeah… forgot about that.” Felix put his phone down. “So I guess we can’t play The Walking Dead either, then.”

“Well, we can’t _play_ it, per se…”

“Oh? What are you suggesting?” Felix’s face brightened with interest, which made Sylvain’s whole being light up too.

“I could… tell you what happens. In an insane amount of detail.”

“I like that idea.” Felix favored him with a rare smile. “Hmm, what if we made popcorn?”

“Honestly, I would eat popcorn for dinner. Wouldn’t we run into a similar problem, though?”

Felix looked confused. “What makes you say that?”

“Uh, the microwave…runs on electricity…”

Felix led them into the kitchen and lit the gas stove using the same box of tiny matches, saying, “God bless gas stoves. You still have that old-fashioned popcorn maker, right? The one with the hand crank? And real popcorn, of course.”

So he did remember.

Sylvain’s heart soared as they made popcorn, with him turning the crank and Felix melting butter in the smallest pan Sylvain owned on the burner next to him. Felix adorably covered his ears when the popcorn kernels started sizzling and popping open. They bumped elbows as Sylvain poured the popcorn into his largest mixing bowl and Felix stood at the ready with the melted butter.

They settled back on the couch, this time facing each other instead of the TV, nestled back against the armrests. The bowl of popcorn rested between them. Something about the positioning of facing each other and sharing one bowl of junk food that they had made together turned Sylvain’s insides to mush. He picked up the story where they had left off.

Soon, Felix was listening and nodding and gasping at all the right parts, saying, “But what about—” before cutting himself off to let Sylvain get on with the plot.

And Sylvain did get on with it, jumping from scene to scene by exclaiming “But meanwhile!” and “Then, out of the corner of your eye—” and “Little did they know that right before...”

He kept meticulous track in his head of who had which items so that he could move seamlessly into the fight scenes when the time came for them. Each character whipped out their gun, or knife, or improvised weapon to kill zombies left and right.

(Sylvain decided it made no sense to try to replicate the experience of quicktime events in a spoken format, so he just described the scenes as though Felix aced every combat automatically. But he did miss seeing Felix jump out of his skin.)

He described the scenery from memory like a dungeon master and let Felix guide the exploration of his surroundings, telling him which items and characters he could interact with. He presented Felix with all of the major in-game choices he could remember, and felt rather chuffed with himself that he could remember some exact lines of dialogue and deliver them in an imitation of the character’s voice.

The hours melted away as he replayed the entire game in his mind’s eye, like a projection that shifted in and out of focus over the canvas of Felix’s face in front of him.

And if he was a good storyteller, Felix was the perfect audience. When other characters betrayed the group, Felix would gasp or look appropriately outraged. And he seemed to take his choices seriously, sometimes pinching the bridge of his nose as he struggled to come to a decision.

Sylvain could see the subtle changes in his face whenever the consequences of his earlier choices came to light. Strange mixtures of heartbroken disappointment and wry understanding, like everything was coming together even as it all fell apart. It made the many hours Sylvain had spent memorizing the branching storyline and dialogue options through sheer completionist obsession feel worth it.

As the sky turned dark outside the windows, Felix abruptly said, “Hang on a second,” and left the room. Sylvain barely had time to wonder before Felix came back with the pillar candles and lit them on the coffee table. He settled back into his seat expectantly, and Sylvain smiled and went on with the story.

Sometimes Felix asked questions that Sylvain, for the most part, chose not to answer. Like when the character he was “playing” as got bitten.

“Wait, so if I cut the arm off, does that definitely mean he’ll live longer?” Felix asked, sounding truly panicked.

“Nothing is definite,” Sylvain answered.

“But won’t he be more likely to survive—and save Clem—if he can use both hands?”

“There’s no way to know.” He couldn’t exactly tell Felix that Lee would die either way. That wasn’t the point of the experience. He almost felt bad for the distress he was causing, but at the same time, he kind of loved watching Felix struggle and fight and try to make meaning out of it. It was like getting to experience the game for the first time again.

Felix chewed the inside of his cheek before speaking. “Cut it off. I’ll cut off my own arm.”

They reached the final scene of the game, and Felix moved the empty popcorn bowl onto the floor next to them and scooted forward, engrossed in the story.

Sylvain made an effort to keep his storytelling matter-of-fact, with minimal embellishment. “When you wake up, you find that Clem dragged you to safety in a little store. She’s like, ‘I was so scared, I thought you were dead!’ And you find out that she saw her parents as zombies. What do you say?”

“What are my options?”

“Um… ‘I know,’ or ‘Come here,’ or ‘That’s a good thing.’ Or say nothing.”

“Come here.”

“‘Come here, sweet pea,’” Sylvain echoed in Lee’s voice.

Felix had an uncanny knack for choosing the lines that broke Sylvain’s heart the most. “Come here, sweet pea” and “It’s going to be okay” and “I don't know how you did it, but you did good, okay?” Sylvain did his best to deliver them calmly, in Lee’s soothing southern drawl.

But it was not going to be okay. “She keeps saying things like ‘Keep going, we’re almost there!’ But you collapse onto the floor next to a radiator and can’t get up, and you realize that if she has any chance to survive, she’ll have to leave you behind.” Felix shook his head in horrified disbelief.

“She says, ‘Get up, the door is right there!’ But he’s like, ‘I can’t. I can’t move. And you don’t have much time. You have to do something.’And she goes, ‘Like what?’” Sylvain paused and looked at Felix, giving him a chance to respond.

“I—She should stay back. I could turn.”

“‘You have to keep away from me,’” Sylvain said, translating Felix’s intent into the character’s words and voice. “She says, ‘But…’ and trails off. And she looks so small—she’s just this little kid. And Lee just says, ‘Do whatever you have to do to keep away from me.’ You can tell he’s barely staying conscious.” Felix’s eyes grew visibly watery.

“Now you have to tell her how to escape. There’s a door, a glass window, a chair, a baseball bat...”

The scene went on. Felix instructed Clementine to handcuff Lee to the radiator for her own safety. He helped her kill one more walker so she would be able to escape.

“She beats it with the bat until it stops moving and says, ‘I got him. I did it.’ What do you say to her?”

Felix’s eyes were still wide and glossy, his eyebrows steepled with dismay. “Tell her that… that of course she did. She’s capable, and she’ll survive.” Felix hadn’t even needed to ask for the dialogue options.

Felix’s words tugged at Sylvain’s heartstrings as he translated it into the story. “He says, ‘See? You can take care of yourself.’ Then Clem picks up the gun.”

Tears welled up again in Felix’s eyes.

“What do you want to say to her?”

“That I believe in her. She can do this.” Felix sounded borderline angry with how passionately he said it.

“‘You're strong, Clem. You can do anything.’ And you can hear that his voice is barely a wheezing rasp now. And she’s saying, like, ‘No, you can’t! Please don’t turn into one of them,’ over and over. And he says, ‘There’s only one thing to do.’”

Felix stared wordlessly at the bit of couch between them.

“You can tell her to shoot you, or leave you. Or…you can say nothing.”

The tears rolled down Felix’s cheeks. He blinked hard and fast and determined. After a long minute, he said, “She has to shoot me.”

“‘You have to shoot me, honey,’” Sylvain echoed softly.

Then Felix screwed his eyes shut and said, “No! Why is this happening?” He covered his face in his hands. It was like he had switched characters, and now he was speaking as Clementine, the child faced with an impossible task.

Suddenly Sylvain was overcome with sympathy, wanting to comfort Felix more than anything. He took over the role of Lee. “‘It’s okay,’ he says to her. And he reminds her of the times that he had to do the same for others, because it was merciful, even though it was hard. He says something like, ‘I’m so sorry to have put you in this position. But you can do it. Just point it at me and close your eyes. I know you can.’”

Sylvain had the next part memorized almost verbatim. The words felt all too real. “It's going to stay bad out there until it gets better, but it will get better one day. Until then, though, don't trust anyone. You still have so much more growing up to do. People will see how small you are and try to take advantage of you. Try to get you to do things you shouldn’t. And…” Sylvain paused, deciding on a dialogue option. “Keep your hair short.”

Felix lifted his head from where he had curled it into his knees. He wiped a strand of hair that had stuck to his tear-stained face and tucked it behind his ear.

Then Sylvain remembered that Felix wasn’t actually Clementine. So in his version of Clementine’s voice, he added, “‘I will. I’ll cut it myself.’” His own vision started to blur, but he just couldn’t summon the tears.

He switched back to Lee’s voice to say, “‘And—and also…’” His chest constricted. “‘I’ll miss you.’”

Felix mutely reached for him, so sad and sweet that Sylvain wanted to cry all his unshed tears. He pulled Felix into his arms.

“Me too,” Felix whispered. As if he knew just what to say.

“She picks up the gun. She looks away as she shoots him,” Sylvain numbly finished. He could feel Felix crumple a little more and felt tears silently seeping into his shirt. Sylvain kept him in the loose hug, feeling wrung out himself. “I’m sorry.”

Jesus Christ, what had he been thinking? Having Felix play a heartbreaking zombie apocalypse game during a pandemic? There had even been a character named Glenn! Now Felix was crying for the second time in two days because of him.

Felix picked up his head and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Don’t—you don’t need to apologize.” But the look on his face was distraught. “How do even you do this?” Felix asked, which seemed a bit at odds with his previous statement.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Sylvain was at a loss for words. _How could I?_ He was asking himself the same question.

“No, I meant to say, like, wow. I mean, you’re right—how could you?” Felix punched Sylvain in the arm to punctuate the question. “But also, how did you do all that? It was like—” Felix broke off and ducked his head into his hands again. “It was like living it myself. God, I can’t believe I told her to shoot Lee. Was it the right choice?”

“For who?”

“I don’t know. Would it have been more merciful to let her leave him to turn? I don’t know. Maybe I should have said nothing and let her decide.”

Surprised, Sylvain said, “Really? It’s so interesting that you say that. Because I think that’s the _least_ merciful option.”

Felix looked up at him, confused. “What? Why?” He wrapped his arms around his knees.

“Okay, maybe I have strong feelings about this. Feel free to cut me off if I start rambling.” Sylvain paused, but Felix nodded for him to go ahead.

“Well, the story is about trying to raise this little human in a terrible situation, one even the adults don’t know how to handle. The whole time, you’re torn between trying to protect her from the cruelty of the world and having to teach her to survive in it.” Felix nodded slowly, eyebrows knitting together.

“What makes the ending so gut-wrenching,” Sylvain continued, “is that you’re essentially saying ‘I’m going to die for you, and even then, I’m going to try to protect you from my death.’ You’re not just protecting her, you’re trying to save her the pain of either having to shoot you or having to let you turn, depending on which one _you_ think is worse.

“But ultimately, what you’re protecting her from is having to make the decision herself, because either way she would live with the guilt for the rest of her life. So you take that responsibility of choosing away from her and it’s the last thing you can teach her to do for herself _and_ the last choice you can make for her. So it’s true that you never find out which choice she would have made, but that’s its own kind of mercy.”

“Oh.” Felix rubbed his eyes with the back of a hand. “Yeah. I see what you mean. It’s just—yeah. Hard to let go.” His eyes were still watery.

“I understand.” Sylvain’s chest constricted with sympathetic sadness.

“Well, thanks for telling it so well. It was…really good. Like, cathartic.”

The words vibrated in Sylvain like a plucked string. “It was all you,” he said. And he truly meant it; Felix’s quiet intensity was what had kept the story alive. No one else would have taken it as seriously—would have taken _Sylvain_ as seriously. “I didn’t do it justice, though. I made a lot of mistakes in the telling of it.”

“Not to me, you didn’t,” said Felix.

Sylvain had to bite his bottom lip to avoid blurting out everything that sprang into his mind. “Well, sadly, now you can never finish playing the actual game, since you would see all the times I fucked up the details.”

“Oh well. I don’t really mind, though. I wouldn’t want to change way we told it.”

_God, Felix, I missed you so much. Let’s stay like this. I’ll tell you stories every night._

But of course Sylvain couldn’t say that. Instead he said, “Me too. But it’s late. We should probably go to bed.”

Felix rose from the sofa and then just stood there, with one hand lingering on the armrest. He turned to Sylvain, looking lost. “The world we knew is gone now, isn’t it,” he said, sounding bone-tired.

“Yeah.” Sylvain touched the back of his hand. “Some of it is. But not all of it.”

They took turns brushing their teeth. Sylvain would have felt awkward squeezing into the little space in front of the sink together, so he waited until Felix was done to take his turn in the bathroom. He tried not to get emotional about seeing the two toothbrushes crossed together in the cup. Like two fingers crossed for good luck.

When he came back to his room, Felix was already curled up on the far side of the bed, with his hair loosely braided and eyes closed. Crying must have really drained his energy. Even now, he still looked a little forlorn, adrift in Sylvain’s too big pajamas.

The sight made Sylvain fear he might overflow with affection. He turned off the lights. Until that very moment, he hadn’t consciously realized the power had come back on.

Before closing his eyes to sleep, Sylvain lay on his side with his phone and opened the notes app.

_May 3, 2020 at 11:39 PM_

_i want to remember this. and by “this”, i mean everything about today._

_if the point of life is to collect little pieces of the world inside yourself, to become a vessel of experiences, to hold the scents and sounds and sights of living within yourself and carry them wherever you go, then I want to carry this: the smell of popcorn. the crash of thunder. your face._

_all the moments of feeling tethered to people, of finding things meaningful. painful, or happy, or painful and happy at the same time._

_when you cried, i think i wanted to cry, too. i’m not very good at it. i actually looked up "how to let yourself cry" and read half a wikihow article about it while you were brushing your teeth._

_(when my brother died, i also looked up “how to comfort a grieving person,” hoping it would tell me how to deal with myself. it's funny, how the death of someone who hurt you can hurt you again.)_

_it fascinates me, somehow, that you are so sensitive to the world around you, even as you act like you hate it. it makes sense, i suppose—the world is overwhelming, especially now. it must be so loud and sharp and pungent to you. but that sensitivity is one of the things i love about you. i wish i could be more like you._

_just being around you helps, though. from now on, i’ll listen more closely to the rain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, I have been eagerly waiting to post the first Sylvain POV chapter bc I actually love writing from his perspective! Felix gets flashbacks and dreams, but Sylvain gets journal entries and texts with Ingrid <3


	5. vengeful ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday, May 3rd. Felix remembers a fateful night from freshman year while trying to fall asleep, and then has a bizarrely vivid dream when he finally does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does have slight content warnings in the end notes!

Felix hadn’t actually fallen asleep yet, though he was certainly trying.

_Freshman year, October 2017. A terrible Halloween house party. It was the kind of night that was only tolerable in retrospect._

_It took Linhardt until the end of October to finally succeed in dragging Felix to a party with him. And even then, it was less a result of Linhardt’s persistence and more because Felix had also heard from Ingrid that she would be there._

_Ingrid had been busy settling in and generally being a perfectionist about her classes, but it seemed even she couldn’t resist goofing off once in a while. And if the cost of seeing Ingrid was wearing all black and a borrowed cat-ear headband, Felix was willing to pay for it._

_Linhardt had gone all out, donning a pink dress and even bleaching his hair blonde for the event. (“I’ll just dye it back afterward. Or not. We’ll see.”) When Felix still could not identify who he was, Linhardt was annoyed._

_“I’m Aurora,” Linhardt said in a huff._

_“Who?”_

_“Isn’t it obvious? Sleeping Beauty. From the Disney movie?”_

_Sadly, Felix had not stayed up to date on pop culture references since… ever. His father had said children’s movies were “frivolous”, so he had lived a childhood deprived of Disney and movie theatre visits. They also hadn’t had cable. None of this helped his already fumbling attempts to interact with his peers._

_When they arrived at the party and had obtained drinks, Felix scanned the room for Ingrid, hoping that whatever her costume was would not make her unrecognizable. Linhardt, however, seemed to recognize someone right away. He made a beeline and dragged Felix along by the arm._

_“Nice costume,” Linhardt said, stopping to address a dancing pink-haired white girl wearing a dress similar to his own (albeit skimpier where the neckline was concerned). “Love the shoes.”_

_The other Aurora’s pink high-heeled boots were plain to see, thanks to the thigh-high slit in her dress. Just pink, pink, pink, head to toe. She turned to face Linhardt, and said, “Ooh, thanks! They’re from H &M.” Even her voice reminded Felix of bubblegum._

_“I know,” said Linhardt, hiking up his dress to reveal the same shoes in black. (Though Felix wasn’t trying to judge anyone, he thought he would probably never understand the appeal of shoes that made it harder to walk. It was antithetical to the purpose of shoes.)_

_The girl grinned and said, “Nice! I love your costume too, by the way! Lazy bitches unite. Though the blonde hair shows true dedication. What’s your name? I feel like we’re destined to be friends. I’m Hilda.” She then pointed at an anemic-looking girl next to her who had so little presence that Felix hadn’t noticed her until this moment. “And this is Marianne.”_

_The girl in question looked exhausted, but in a wide-eyed way that made it seem like she was living on coffee and nothing else. She was dressed as a witch, which made no sense to Felix. Why, with her naturally gaunt looks, didn’t she simply dress up as a vampire? She would barely need any makeup, except maybe some fake or borrowed blood. (If she couldn’t make her own, store-bought would be fine.)_

_In a whispery voice, she said, “Happy Samhain…” She spoke so solemnly that Felix couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be in character or not. Also, what the fuck was sah-win?_

_“I’m Linhardt. And this is my roommate Felix.” It was kind of Linhardt to try to include him, but Felix had just spotted Ingrid across the room. The long blonde braid down her back was a dead giveaway._

_“Nice to meet you both. See you around,” Felix said, knowing he was making a clumsy exit. But god, if he wasn’t desperate to see a friendly face after two months of meeting more and more strangers. He pushed his way through a throng of inebriated people and finally stumbled into Ingrid’s back._

_Turning to see him, Ingrid exclaimed, “Hey, Fe! Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you.”_

_Relieved to have found her, Felix responded, “Likewise.” He had to almost shout to be heard over the sound of the Monster Mash being played for what he could have sworn was the third time this hour. If there was a playlist being played, it must have been only three songs long._

_In terms of costumes, Ingrid seemed to have gone with the same boring route that Felix had, except she wore all grey and a pair of mouse ears instead of cat ears. Other than those details, they matched perfectly, right down to their sneakers._

_Next to her stood Dimitri, who hadn’t dressed up at all, except for a pirate eyepatch that Ingrid had probably forced him to wear. Dimitri gave Felix the usual pained smile and moved to make a space between himself and Ingrid for Felix to join their circle. Felix stepped into it, but very pointedly gave Ingrid his full attention._

_Unfortunately, meeting up with Ingrid was not the reprieve from meeting strangers that Felix had hoped it would be._

_“Felix,” Ingrid said excitedly, “this is Dedue, Dimitri’s roommate.” She waved toward a tall, racially-ambiguous brown guy standing next to Dimitri. And he must have been, what, six foot six? Felix imagined he must have bumped his forehead on the doorway on the way in._

_Dedue was wearing a suit and carrying a single rose, which Felix did not at all know how to interpret. He gave Felix a little smile and wave, surprisingly demure for a guy his size. In a deep but soft voice, he said, “I’m a bachelor. From the bachelor.” Felix still did not understand what his costume was._

_Ingrid continued around this circle. “This is Dedue’s friend, Ashe.” She pointed at a short, sweet-faced boy in an angel costume. Ashe smiled, revealing cute dimples to go with the cute freckles dusting his nose and cheeks._

_“And Ashe’s roommate, Ignatz.” An equally short guy, wearing round glasses and dressed as Bob Ross, complete with wig and paint palette with actual wet paint on it._

_“And this is Ashe’s friend, Mercedes.”_

_A girl wearing the most unsexy and matronly nurse costume that Felix had ever seen bobbed her head in greeting. She also looked like she might have some form of albinism, based on her white-blonde hair and how her light blue eyes peered at Felix through thick corrective lenses. “Nice to meet you!” she said in a dreamy, airy voice._

_Felix was already struggling to process the names as Ingrid continued, “And these two are Ashe and Ignatz’s suitemates, Raphael” —another hulk of a man, acting as an easel for the Bob Ross kid by holding a half-painted canvas—_

_“And Sylvain.” Ingrid finally finished by jabbing a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the tall red-haired guy on her other side, completing the circle._

_Wow. If Felix had thought Hilda’s costume was a bit lazy and slutty, Sylvain’s was lazier and even sluttier. Sylvain wore only a white towel wrapped around his waist—and, most bizarrely, a pair of black, heart-shaped nipple pasties with tassels dangling off of them._

_Sylvain slung a bare arm around Ingrid’s shoulders and said, “Ingrid! Saved the best for last, didja?” (Only because he was last in the circle, Felix thought, but—)_

_Sylvain was looking at him in a way that Felix believed was called “checking him out.”_

_“You know, Ingrid…” Sylvain went on, “when you said that your ‘childhood friend’ was coming tonight, I was imagining you meant a lovely lady like yourself. But I’ll admit, the long hair, pretty face…” Sylvain’s eyes raked over him with a heavy look, head to toe. Sylvain quirked an eyebrow as his gaze landed back on Felix’s face and made prolonged eye contact. “Yep, I could still go for it.”_

_Felix flushed furiously red. The comment made him feel quite… weird. Like he wanted to fiddle with his hair or something. “Damn, you’re gross,” he said, harsher than he initially meant to._

_Ingrid chuckled and shrugged Sylvain’s arm off of her shoulder. “Oh, don’t mind Sylvain,” she assured Felix. “He flirts with everyone.” Knowing that somehow made Felix feel even weirder._

_Sylvain just grinned wider. “Meow,” he said in agreement. Felix deeply regretted wearing the ears. Or maybe regretted that he didn’t have the claws to match, because he sure did want to scratch this guy’s eyes out._

_It wasn’t often that someone flirted with Felix, probably due to the don’t-fuck-with-me aura he projected within a five foot radius. But this nutcase, “Sylvain” or whatever, seemed to have no such sense of self-preservation._

_“What the hell is he dressed as?” Felix asked, turning to address the question to Ingrid. She grinned at him, and then glanced over at Sylvain._

_Felix had meant for it to be rhetorical, but Sylvain answered anyway—eagerly, as if he had just been waiting for someone to ask._

_“Hello ladies,” Sylvain said in an affected suave voice. “Look at your man. Now back at me. Now back at your man. Now back to me. Sadly, he isn’t me. But—”_

_“Okay, Old Spice guy, we get it,” Felix interrupted his script. “Then what’s with the…tassels?”_

_“Oh, these old things?” Sylvain flicked one so it swung in a circle, which was just—ugh. Horrendous. Felix already regretted asking._

_Sylvain said, “Ashe said that it would be indecent to go completely topless” —Ashe smiled apologetically from across the circle— “and I would never want to be indecent!” Sylvain ended the sentence in a wink he probably thought was cute._

_And okay, maybe he did ooze a slimy sort of charm, but Felix could only imagine how often he slipped in the messes it made._

_“You know, wearing nothing below the belt except a towel seems pretty fucking indecent, too,” Felix_ _pointed out, his eyes cutting back to the towel. He could feel his face redden inexplicably again._

_“Ooh, so you’re a feisty kittycat!” Sylvain purred in delight. “But just so you know, I’m not completely naked under the towel.” He pulled open the top of the towel, showing a flash of the white briefs—literal tighty-whities! —underneath. Felix flung a hand over his eyes to cover the sight, but was too late to avoid seeing them._

_“Sorry if that’s a disappointment,” Sylvain said, grinning as he wrapped the towel back around himself and tucked the corner to hold it in place. “I mean, the fact that you can’t see my dick. Not the size of it. That’s never yet been a disappointment.” Felix just barely suppressed his knee-jerk reaction, which was to kick Sylvain’s gonads to the moon._

_“You’re a disappointment,” Felix said flatly, for lack of a better comeback. Ingrid (and several others whose names Felix would need a reminder of) laughed at the exchange._

_“So Ingrid,” Felix said, tuning out Sylvain and pivoting back to someone who made sense, “where’s your roommate, uh, whatshername? From the soccer team?”_

_“Um, we don’t get along super well.” Ingrid quickly waved her hands and added, “Not that we’ve had any problems! We just don’t…have much in common?”_

_“You say that about most girls,” Felix ribbed her. “So I take it you still have no female friends?” He was glad at least one of their running jokes from high school still applied._

_Flustered, Ingrid said, “I have female friends! Just ask Mercedes.” Mercedes smiled brightly and nodded her assent._

_“And it’s not like we’ve had any roommate disagreements or anything,” Ingrid went on. “Look!” She took out her phone and showed Felix a picture of her and an equally athletic-looking girl with her orange-red hair cropped very short. They seemed to be posing to show off their matching water bottles. “See? I can get along with other girls.”_

_“I thought you said you don’t have much in common?” Felix asked as Ingrid pulled her phone back._

_“I mean… yeah, the water bottles, but I guess we just don’t, uh, hang out socially? Leonie’s just…competitive. About everything.”_

_The Bob Ross kid suddenly piped up, “Oh! I didn’t realize you’re Leonie’s roommate. I have a class with her. Yeah, she’s… intense, but definitely hardworking.”_

_Bob Ross’s beefy easel friend added, “Yeah, she’s alright!” which didn’t add much to the conversation at all. And with all these glowing reviews, Felix didn’t really want to meet Leonie that much anymore._

_Miniature Bob Ross continued, “Oh, so Ingrid! You must be also suitemates with Petra…” The conversation turned into a fascinating discussion about more people Felix didn’t know and whether they all knew each other from various classes and clubs._

_Seriously, how did everyone know everyone already? Felix tried his best to stand politely and listen, but within a few minutes he was fed up with straining his ears to catch names he didn’t recognize. “I’m just gonna… go over there,” he said as an aside to Ingrid. He didn’t bother raising his voice to be heard over the music._

_“Huh?” was her distracted response. But he was already extricating himself from the circle, off to find a quiet corner where he could nurse his drink in peace._

_Oh, the hubris! Why had he thought he could go to a party? It must have been too long since he had last been to one. He had forgotten how much they made him feel invisible. He found a staircase, went halfway up it, and stopped on the landing, hopping up to sit and lament on a window ledge._

_“Felix!” Ingrid caught up with him. “Wait up.”_

_“Sorry, I didn’t mean to take you away from your new friends,” he said. He swirled the last sip of his drink around in the cup, watching it run in circles. “I don’t mean to be clingy.”_

_Ingrid rolled her eyes as she joined him in front of the window. “You know, I can make new friends and still want to catch up with you.”_

_“Sorry. I know that. I just have a low tolerance for loud parties.”_

_Ingrid chuckled. “Don’t we all? I appreciate that you’re making an effort, though.” She glanced up at his cat ears with a grin._

_“Same to you,” Felix said with a little smirk directed at her mouse ears. “It figures that we would do a pair costume accidentally.”_

_She laughed and rested her elbows on the window ledge next to him. “Yeah, that’s us, alright. You know, after you left, I had to convince everyone that we’ve never dated. Not sure they believed me, though.”_

_For reasons he couldn’t fathom, Felix’s stomach twisted itself into a pretzel at her words. “Then they’re fools,” he said._

_“I dunno,” she said, leaning her head lightly against the side of his knee. “Maybe they can just see how important you are to me.”_

_“Not in a romantic way, though.”_

_“No, of course not, you fool!” She laughed and roughly shoved his leg. “But really, I’ve missed seeing you every day.”_

_“Yeah. You too.”_

_“We can just stay here and chat, if you want,” Ingrid offered. “Though I’d like a refill on drinks.”_

_A protective instinct came over Felix. It was less likely that someone would roofie her drink if he was carrying it, right? “Sure, gimme your cup,” he said. “What are you drinking?”_

_“Cranberry juice and just a little bit of vodka, please,” Ingrid said cheerfully. “Like a half shot. Thanks.” Felix hopped down from the ledge and went to refill both their drinks at the table of assorted bottles in the corner downstairs._

_He was just turning away from the drink table when out of nowhere, Sylvain tripped straight into him. Hard._

_It jostled the drinks in his hand, and Ingrid’s cape cod splashed all down Sylvain’s bare chest. It ran down his bare stomach and dyed his stupid towel a watery, pinkish red._

_“Oh, fuck—sorry,” Felix apologized on reflex, though it was clearly Sylvain’s fault for bumping into him._

_Sylvain blinked down at himself. “You know, when I said I wanted to get sloshed tonight…”_

_“Sorry,” Felix repeated dumbly._

_“Ah, Felix, was it?” Sylvain said, looking up. “No problem.” With no warning, he grinned and dumped his drink down Felix’s front. Felix leapt back, but it was too late to avoid the cascade of orange juice. “Now we’re even,” Sylvain said sunnily._

_“Dude, what the fuck?” Felix sputtered, looking down at his sticky clothes and the puddle at his feet. “What the hell is wrong with you? I said I was sorry!”_

_“Oh! Well in that case, I’m sorry too,” Sylvain replied, eyes twinkling with mirth like it was all a funny joke. “So, are we good now?”_

_“No, we fucking aren’t! You should be a lot fucking sorrier—you’re the one who walked into me! God, you’re an asshole,” Felix growled._

_Sylvain’s smile widened. “Woof.”_

_On one strong, angry impulse, Felix poured the only drink he still had on hand—his own rum and coke—over Sylvain’s head. The sight of it dripping from Sylvain’s hair was immensely gratifying._

_“So,” Felix said, “still think this is funny?”_

_Sylvain wiped a hand down his stupid handsome face and then flicked the liquid from his fingertips back onto Felix. “Yeah, kinda,” he said, still wearing that shit-eating grin._

_Fuming, Felix spat, “Fuck off,” and moved to shoulder his way past Sylvain._

_But at the same time as he stepped toward Sylvain, Sylvain leaned in toward him with half-lidded eyes and that infuriating sleazy smile and said, “Down, boy.” Felix’s body reacted without his permission._

_He shoved Sylvain away with a hand on the center of his face. Then he felt a warm wetness on his palm._

_Felix whipped his hand away, cursing. “What the hell are—you fucking freak, did you just lick my fucking hand?”_

_“Well, you were being a little too pushy,” Sylvain said hotly._

_“Okay, but like, ‘pushy’ as in pushing you the hell away from me!” Felix shouted. “Not ‘pushy’ as in—as in getting all up in your face!”_

_“No, I’d say your hand was all up in my face, actually,” Sylvain said, pointing at his stupid fucking mouth as if Felix needed a reminder. As if the slimy feeling on his palm wasn’t enough to remember him by._

_Felix was just about to put his hand in Sylvain’s face in a whole different way when Ingrid shoved herself between them, yelling, “Boys! Break it up!” over the loud music. (And yes, it was the fucking Monster Mash again.)_

_But for some reason, Felix just wanted to throw hands with this bastard—and it didn’t matter that Sylvain was fucking built, and five inches taller than him, and wearing a towel. None of that affected his decision one bit, because Felix just wanted so badly to make him cry and piss his pants. Or towel. Whatever._

_So he brushed Ingrid aside and said, louder, “No, I want to find out why this piece of shit thinks anyone would want to hear a single word out of his disgusting mouth, much less have it on them.”_

_He bit his tongue to shut himself up before he said something he would really regret. It wasn’t lost on him that their fight had drawn an audience. He even considered stomping on Sylvain’s toes for good measure, but he didn’t want to risk slipping in the sugary puddle of cheap mixers around their feet and making an even further fool of himself._

_And Sylvain, for whatever reason, kept rising to the bait. Eyes glinting, Sylvain bluntly said, “You’re not better than me.”_

_And that was pretty much the most damning insult to hear from a spoiled white boy who was currently wearing nipple tassels and drenched in two different cocktails._

_“Yes, I am,” Felix snarled with a shove at Sylvain’s shoulder, jutting his jaw forward angrily._

_Sylvain looked surprised by the depth of his rage. “Dude, chill! Get your hands off of me.” Sylvain started to pry his fingers off, but Felix withdrew his hand voluntarily._

_“Why?” Felix taunted. “Isn’t that what you want? You’re just a filthy little—”_

_‘”What?” Sylvain challenged. “What am I?”_

_“A shallow, self-centered, good-for-nothing attention whore!”_

_Sylvain’s expression turned dark. “Oh, excuse me. I’m sorry that, unlike you, people actually like me and want to be around me. You’re the one who’s an uptight, unlikable asshole.”_

_That did it. Felix curled the hand Sylvain had licked and swung like his fist was magnetically attracted to Sylvain’s face._

_He was already fantasizing about the satisfying crunch of knuckles meeting cheekbone when Sylvain intercepted the punch in his hands and used the leverage to shove Felix backward. Felix nearly got the wind knocked out of him when his back hit the wall, one of his shoulder blades taking the brunt of the impact._

_Sylvain lowered his face to Felix’s until they were eye to eye, dangerously close. “You really think you’re untouchable, huh? Here’s a friendly word of advice, from one attention-seeking dirtbag to another: get a fucking grip on yourself.”_

_Felix spat in his face._

_Sylvain recoiled as it hit his cheek. But Felix still somehow felt that he had missed his real target—he had the irrational urge to smear the spit onto Sylvain’s mouth._

_Instead, he wiped his saliva-wet palm on Sylvain's shoulder. It felt good, even though it mainly just made his hand stickier._

_“There,” he said, his heart pounding furiously. “Now we’re even. Thanks for swapping saliva, pretty boy.” He turned, fully prepared to march out the front door._

_He paused. “Oh, and don’t forget to zip your fly on the way out.” He derived a sick sort of satisfaction from seeing Sylvain slap a hand over his dick before realizing he was in a towel._

_Then Felix whirled and finally stormed out. And that was the end of that party._

_Fifteen minutes later, Ingrid was sitting beside him on the curb while they waited for the campus ride service to pick them up. Felix had already apologized profusely, but it wasn’t enough to express how miserable he felt about it._

_“God, I am so, so sorry.”_

_“I know you are,” Ingrid said, patting him on the shoulder. (She must have loved him a lot, to not mind that he was covered in a sticky sheen of spilled screwdriver.) “You don’t have to keep saying it.”_

_“I really don’t know what came over me,” he reiterated, bewildered by his own behavior._

_“It was orange juice and vodka, I think,” Ingrid laughed, clearly nowhere near as mad at him as Felix was at himself._

_“Yep. And now all your friends will remember me as this…belligerent drunk guy who got into a fist fight at a frat party on Halloween.”_

_“While wearing cat ears,” Ingrid added with a cackle._

_“Ugh. And I bet they think I’m puking my guts out in a bush right now. God, I seriously don’t know how this happened. I’m barely even tipsy!”_

_“Ha, yeah. I think he was way more drunk than you were.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Yeah, he’s kind of a lightweight.”_

_“I...wouldn’t have guessed that.”_

_“Not everyone shows how many drinks they’ve had on their face, Felix,” Ingrid teased. He scowled. “But really,” she consoled him, “I’m sure this will just be a funny story one day. And everyone else you met was so nice, right? So I’m sure they won’t hold it against you.”_

_Felix sighed. “Yeah, I suppose so.” He knew it was hard to get him out of his shell, but Ingrid always tried her best to help him make friends. And he still screwed it up._

_“I doubt he’ll forgive me, though,” Felix added._

_“Who? Sylvain?” Ingrid’s lips twisted in the way that meant she was holding back a laugh. “Yeah, you guys really seemed to hit it off.”_

_Felix’s blood pressure spiked again. “Hit it off? Hit what off?” he demanded. “An argument? An antagonistic relationship? A fucking feud?” He seethed quietly for a moment and bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from saying anything else._

_“I meant, like, the bantering before the physical altercation,” Ingrid said. “It seemed like you had a nice bickering thing going. And since one-upmanship is, like, your primary mode of socializing…”_

_Was that true? Wow. No wonder no one liked him._

_Felix sighed again and said, “Well, I’m sorry I started a fight with him. I just hope it doesn’t affect your… friendship with him.”_

_“Oh, no no, I’m not asking for an apology! It was funny! And Sylvain does love a good game of verbal volleyball. I don’t think he knows the difference between flirting and fighting. Besides, it’s the most I’ve seen you talk to anyone besides me, Dimitri, and Linhardt since we came to college.”_

_“That’s…kind of depressing, actually.” Felix stared at his shoes. “Where is he even from?”_

_Ingrid squinted at him in confusion. “Sylvain? Uh, somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, I think?”_

_“No, I meant—well, actually, that makes a lot of sense—but I meant like, where the hell did you find him?”_

_“He’s in my bio class! He sat right down next to me on the first day and asked me if there was a mirror in my pants.” Ingrid snorted in laughter and then continued, “Obviously, I told him I’m not interested in dating, and he was like, ‘That’s a shame. Guess we’ll have to be friends then.’ And I found out later that he was Ashe’s suitemate, and I had met Ashe because he’s friends with Dimitri’s roommate, Dedue… Anyway, Sylvain and I just kept sitting in the same seats and sharing notes and stuff.”_

_“Yeah, he seems like the type to hit you up for homework help, alright.”_

_Ingrid gestured vigorously to the contrary. “No, he like, actually does the readings!”_

_“You mean he can read?” Felix said, pasting a look of shock on his face._

_Ingrid ignored the interruption. “One time we both got there early, and he started pointing out to me—completely unprompted—how the textbook’s language around gamete fusion is actually super sexist.”_

_Felix made a disgusted sound. “Ah. Of course he read the chapter on sexual reproduction.”_

_“No, really, I’m serious! He said it just regurgitates fairytale gender roles with all these ‘key and lock’ and ‘warrior and damsel’ metaphors, and doesn’t even accurately reflect the scientific facts—like that the sperm is the one with the receptors, not the egg. He offered to send me a journal article about it.”_

_“Oh. That’s... surprising?” Felix replied uncertainly._

_“It was surprising,” Ingrid agreed. “But seriously, he’s actually pretty interesting. Even if sometimes he talks just to hear his own voice.”_

_Felix smiled wryly. “It figures. If there’s one person who can see the good in anyone, it’s definitely you.”_

_Ingrid flipped her hair jokingly. “I would consider that a compliment. So thank you. But I think I probably just imagine the good in people at first, and then spend a lot of time with them until I can finally uncover what specific kind of good they have in them.”_

_“So that’s why you hang out with me, huh? Still looking for my specific kind of good?” he joked, nudging her foot with his own._

_“No! I have always seen the good in you, Felix.”_

_“Oh, stop it,” he scoffed. “You’re too nice to me.”_

_She stood up, grinning. “Oh yeah? Just try to stop me.” She walked backward into the deserted street, sweeping her arms wide like the whole sky above couldn’t stop her. Felix believed that was probably true._

_He laughed and rose from the curb too, and she surprised him by grabbing his hand with one of hers and twirling herself into his arms like they were dancing. He played along and spun her back out of his arms until their arms were fully outstretched and they were only connected by their fingertips. Then she grinned maniacally and spun herself back in, flinging her weight into it so he was forced to catch her to stop her from bashing her head on the pavement. It was, arguably, a perfect spin and dip._

_What a sight they must have made, a cat and mouse gallivanting un-drunkenly in the street. He didn’t particularly care if anyone was watching._

_Twenty minutes later, they were competing to see who could stand on one leg for the longest when they realized she had forgotten to send the ride request. They walked home in their dumb costumes, sensible shoes, and happiness._

When Felix finally fell asleep that night, he did not sleep peacefully. In fact, he had a particularly vivid dream.

How strange. He usually didn’t remember his dreams at all.

_In this dream, he had gone to a movie theatre with Linhardt and Leonie. And somehow in the dream, it was clear to him that Linhardt and Leonie were dating, though that was obviously not true in reality. And Sylvain was the movie on the screen._

_Felix saw a flash of the theatre’s classic marquee in his mind. Its bold black letters spelled out the title “BOYHOOD”. Another movie he had never seen._

_He sat directly between Linhardt and Leonie. Linhardt on his left, Leonie on his right. They were the only three people in the theatre’s worn red seats. In the cool darkness, Linhardt and Leonie held hands across his lap, with their wrists resting on his thighs. There were no armrests to stop them._

_And then, under the floating dust motes in the projector’s beam of light, they both leaned in and kissed him on each cheek simultaneously. Linhardt’s long, Aurora-blonde hair tickled Felix’s arm, while Leonie’s boyishly short ginger hair brushed near his ear. Their two bodies crowded in on him, emanating heat from both sides._

_And then they started arguing, fighting over him. And they each grabbed one of his arms and pulled. They ripped off his arms. Oddly, Felix felt no pain and merely watched in detachment as his skin stretched grotesquely and tore at the shoulder sockets. “Thank you,” Linhardt and Leonie said in unsettling unison. They each spoke in someone else’s voice._

Felix jolted awake feeling like he was burning and tore the blankets off of him. The memory of dream was still fresh in his mind, but it faded faster the more he tried to hold onto it. His sweat, now exposed to the air, rapidly cooled his skin.

Then he realized he had accidentally ripped the covers off of Sylvain, too. He pulled them back up, careful not to touch Sylvain as he draped the blanket over him. Then he let his mind go empty and lay back down, willing himself to go back to sleeping dreamlessly again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for alcohol, mention of vomiting, and uhhhh someone getting a limb torn off? That last one is extremely brief and not graphic (and not real). It occurs near the very end of the chapter if you want to skip, and the rest of the chapter is hopefully quite fun.  
> also shout out to my one friend who kinda beta read this chapter for me but all he had to say was "you forgot the word 'a' here" when I had in fact forgotten the word "a" there
> 
> (Also here is the citation for the article Sylvain talks about:  
> Martin, Emily. 1991. “The Egg and the Sperm: How Science Has Constructed a Romance Based on Stereotypical Male-Female Roles.” Signs 16 (3): 485–501.)


	6. the best medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday, May 4th. Sylvain realizes his relationship with Felix is as complicated and uncomplicated as their relationships to eating and drinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some content warnings for this chapter are in the end notes!

“Good morning, sleeping beauty! Or should I say good afternoon?”

“Ugh,” said Felix. He had always been very articulate.

Felix had just stumbled into the kitchen, looking pretty wrecked for someone who by all measures should have gotten at least twelve hours of sleep.

Amused, Sylvain said, “Sorry, let me rephrase: good afternoon, walking nightmare! What’s with the bags under the eyes?”

“Believe me when I say I have no fucking clue how this happened,” Felix said. “When I woke up, I thought my phone had been set to a different timezone or something. I’m glad I set an alarm before class, but god, I never thought I would actually need it.”

“Aww, you poor thing!” cooed Sylvain. “I just made myself some toast and fried eggs. I can make you some too, if you want.”

Felix dragged his feet as he trudged to the nearest chair at the kitchen island. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I can! Two eggs okay?”

“Just one is fine.”

Sylvain was, once again, in a glorious mood just for the hell of it. Plus, he found it incredibly entertaining that even when Felix went to bed super early, he still couldn’t bring himself to be a morning person. But whatever! Sleep schedules were immaterial nowadays anyway.

Felix slumped over onto the countertop with the grace of a student falling asleep at their desk. “I think this might be the first time I’ve actually overslept so much that I feel _worse_ for having slept,” he said. “Fucking hell. This is why I should stick to my schedule of four to six hours of sleep per night.”

“Four?! I can’t believe you judged me for skipping one night of sleep. You must be _chronically_ sleep-deprived!”

Felix sighed. “If this is how being well-rested feels, I want no part of it. Also, on a completely unrelated note, I’ve given up on my caffeine holiday. Do you have any black tea?”

“Only the strongest for you, sunshine.” With the bread in the toaster and one lonesome egg cracked into the spitting pan of butter, Sylvain filled the kettle and set it on the stove as well. He snuck bites of his own food before it grew cold.

“Don’t you have any classes today?” Felix asked miserably.

“Nope!” said Sylvain. “I turned in my last big project and everything is pass/fail, so I’m done with class.” He mimed dusting his hands of the distasteful activity.

Felix eyed him askance. “Really? What, none of your professors can be bothered to teach anymore?”

“Well, no, the classes are still meeting, but I’m just not planning to go to classes I don’t need to attend. It’s like, the last week anyway. And this is, you know, a pandemic. Seriously, I’ve calculated my grades and I cannot possibly fail anything on the basis of a zero in attendance or participation.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take your word for it.” Sylvain couldn’t tell whether Felix was impressed by his ballsiness or judgmental about his lack of work ethic.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re not all perfectionists like you, you know. There’s only one class I still need to actually attend, and that’s only because it factors into the grade for our final project. We have to read sections of our papers and take feedback from the class. And that’s not until next Wednesday.” He picked up a spatula to attend to the egg. “Do you like the yolk runny or cooked through?”

“Runny, I guess. As long as the white is fully cooked.”

“Can do,” Sylvain said, flipping it to the other side and feeling quite proud of his seamless execution.

“Pretty cruel of your professor to have class next Wednesday, though.”

“I know, right? Like I said, I would skip it if I could.” Sylvain retrieved the toast and then deposited the fried egg on top of one of the slices. “Tea will be ready in a minute,” he said when he placed the plate before Felix. “Salt and pepper? Fork and knife?”

Felix reluctantly accepted all the items pushed his way. “I feel bad. You don’t have to make me breakfast just because you woke up first.”

“Just a simple ‘thank you’ would be fine. And besides, you have class. I mean, I have also have class, but I have no respect for the law.”

“You think I respect the law?” Felix asked, insulted. “After all the things I’ve shoplifted for you?” Felix shook his head and raised the piece of toast to his mouth to take a chomp out of it. The yolk, predictably, dribbled out over his chin and dripped onto the plate. “Oh, goddammit, fucking—”

Sylvain laughed and said, “What did you expect to happen? You asked for it runny.” He stood to pour the tea, depositing the mug next to Felix’s mess of a plate. Felix just grumbled indistinctly at him and wiped the bright yellow yolk from his chin with his hand.

And then licked it from his hand. His mouth latched onto his fingers to suck off the remainder.

Sylvain hurriedly tried to turn off his visual cortex, but to no avail. “Okay, well,” he said in a rush, “you have your laptop, right?”

“Yeah, I brought it out to do class from the couch.”

“Great. Okay. I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

“Doubtful, but thank you.”

“There we go! A thank you! Was that so hard?”

Sylvain kept himself occupied for the next few hours with no issue. He considered himself an unexpected pro at quarantining alone. Despite his reputation as an extrovert, he was perfectly capable of living a solitary existence for a little while, thank you very much.

In this case, that ‘little while’ was about two hours before he got curious about what Felix was doing.

He popped his head out of the bedroom to check on him. Felix seemed to be done with classes, since he had relocated with his laptop to the kitchen island again and was working on some kind of assignment. His plate of breakfast was still next to him, egg eaten but one piece of toast still unfinished.

“You’re not done with breakfast yet? Damn, you must be the slowest eater alive.”

Felix yanked his earbuds out and said, “Shut up. I’m going to finish it.”

“Okie dokie. Meanwhile, I’ll be over here, eating lunch.”

“Alright, you do that.”

“Why thank you, Felix, I will! And if you ever decide you’re interested in cooking, let me know and I’ll introduce you to her.”

“I know how to cook, asshole.” Felix shoved his earbuds back in.

Sylvain retreated back to his room with his food and resumed his insane rotation of activities including random youtube videos, rearranging his bookshelves for the fiftieth time, and deconstructing one of his desk drawers to try to figure out why it squeaked.

He headed back to the kitchen another two hours later looking for a butter knife to use as a flat head screwdriver since he couldn’t find his—and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Felix was in the exact same position as before, with the toast still on his plate.

“You still haven’t eaten,” Sylvain said. It wasn’t a question. He tried to turn it into a joke. “I thought you said you can cook?”

Felix’s eyes dropped to his plate. “It’s not that I can’t cook, I just…wasn’t hungry.”

“Uh-huh,” Sylvain said. “You weren’t hungry yesterday either. We ate, what, cereal, grilled cheese, and popcorn yesterday? And popcorn is like—like buttered air. All of that put together is hardly one real meal. What’s the issue?”

There was an aggravated twitch to Felix’s eyebrow as he said, “It’s nothing to be concerned about. And it’s not like it’s a new thing. I’ve always been the type to skip meals.”

“That’s worse. You understand that saying that makes it worse, right?”

“I really only need one or two meals a day.”

 _Need?_ Sylvain felt like the floor had dropped out from under him as Felix’s words sank in. “Need?” he repeated.

Felix tried another excuse. “I just didn’t have the energy. And I don’t want to waste the food.”

“ _Waste_?” Sylvain could hear his voice go high and thin in disbelief.

Felix seemed to resent having his words repeated back at him. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s _my_ problem? Dude, you’ve probably eaten two thousand calories in the past _three days_. What is going on with you?”

Felix’s face hardened. “Well excuse me if I have a little less appetite than usual! Everything isn’t fine, you know. The world has kind of gone to shit, if you hadn’t noticed. Why would I eat anything more than I have to?” His volume escalated further, just short of yelling. “I’m not even doing anything worthwhile with the energy! Why do I need to eat?”

The look on Felix’s face was that of a cornered animal, and the effect was gut-wrenching. It knocked the breath out of Sylvain.

He tried a more comforting approach. “I know this is a privileged thing to say,” he said slowly, “but we won’t run out of food. I promise. We even have the food you brought, if you felt bad about eating my food. But believe me, we won’t run out of food.”

“That’s no reason to waste it on me, though. I don’t need to eat this much. I can eat less, and I’m fine.” Felix stared at the wall with a vacant expression as he spoke, like his soul was somewhere else and had left his body on autopilot. But that didn’t make sense—an autopilot function would force Felix to eat, wouldn’t it? Self-preservation was one of Asimov’s laws, right?

Sylvain wanted desperately to grab Felix by the shoulders and shake him. He settled instead for planting his palms on the countertop and leaning toward Felix, as if he could intimidate some sense into him. “You can’t just eat the bare minimum that you think your body _needs_ to fucking _survive_! Your body deserves to have whatever it wants,” Sylvain said before clamping his mouth shut. He was dead serious about Felix needing to eat and didn’t want him to think it was just flirting.

“Felix. You gotta eat. You have to. Food isn’t wasted if you’re eating it.” He enunciated it, part of him hoping the problem was with Felix’s hearing instead of his thinking. “Felix, do you hear me? Food. Isn’t. Wasted. If. You’re. Eating. It.” Felix looked stubbornly away.

Sylvain’s mind raced through all the little things he should have noticed during the past two and a half days together: how easy it had been to carry Felix into the building, how Felix was never the one to say it was time to eat—

“Fuck, dude, did you ever consider that maybe _this_ could be why you fainted so easily? Why you felt nauseous after eating yesterday?”

For a second, Felix didn’t seem to know what he was talking about. Either that, or Felix was making up an excuse. Then Felix scowled and said, “Yeah, I felt nauseous because I ate more than I needed to.”

“It was one fucking bowl of cereal!” Logically, Sylvain knew getting upset wouldn’t help Felix, but he wasn’t thinking logically, because not only was that clearly an excuse, it was also a terrible one. And if this was the reason Felix always seemed fatigued, the reason Felix folded himself up to take up the least possible amount of space—Christ alive, how had Sylvain not noticed before?

Stony-faced, Felix pushed his chair back like he was going to simply walk away from this and pretend it never happened. He’d done it before, after all.

Sylvain stared daggers at him. “Sit your ass back down, I’m making you something for lunch. Or dinner, or whatever the fuck you call food at 4:30pm. Anything. What do you want?” He whipped out a clean plate and a pan in preparation. He set the pan down hard on the stovetop by accident with a loud clang.

Felix winced and yelled, “Stop it! Don’t make me anything! And I don’t just mean now, I mean in general. You didn’t sign up to feed two people! You don’t have to cook for me.”

“Felix, I _like_ cooking for you. I _like_ cooking for two. This whole past month, I’ve been cooking and eating all my meals alone, and then I always have too many leftovers and have to eat the same thing for days on end—I’m literally _glad_ you’re here.” It physically hurt Sylvain that he had to spell this out—and that Felix still didn’t seem to believe him.

Sylvain took a breath, trying to get himself back under control. “I know I don’t have to cook for you, but I want to. Just let me.” A pleading tone crept into his voice without his permission.

Felix crossed his arms with a sullen huff. “Why are you so mad about this? I’m telling you that you don’t have to feed me. That means less work for you. I’ll take care of myself.”

“No,” Sylvain countered, “you clearly won’t take care of yourself. I’m mad at you because you, Felix, are withholding food from” — _my best friend, someone I love—_ “yourself, and I don’t know why. But you’re someone I care about, and I’m going to feed you, because you deserve food. Everyone deserves food! So if I have the power to give you food, it’s not a burden, it’s a fucking privilege.”

He turned resolutely to the stove so he wouldn’t have to see Felix’s reaction. “So just eat. What do you want?” The tension simmered in the air for a long moment. In this case and this case alone, Sylvain refused to be the one to relent.

“Fine,” Felix said finally. “Can you… can you give me some options to choose from?”

“Oh,” said Sylvain, disoriented by the sudden turn. “Sure. Uh, I can make you pasta. I can make you… I can make you quesadillas. I can make, um, chicken tenders and fucking tater tots.” For reasons even he didn’t understand, Sylvain still felt like they were arguing. It was like emotional whiplash. “Or a sandwich, or—or beans and rice, or mac and cheese, or, fucking I don’t know, I have soup in the fridge—”

“Pasta sounds good, actually,” said Felix.

“Oh thank god, pasta it is. Fucking hallelujah, you had me questioning if I even know how to make anything for a minute there.” Sylvain put away the frying pan and went about getting a pot and setting water to boil. “Veggies? We’ve got” —he opened the fridge— “a sweet potato, yellow squash, spinach, a red bell pepper, carrots, more broccoli…”

He turned to look back at Felix and caught him with an unreadable expression, his mouth scrunched up to one side. Felix immediately reverted to a blank face when he noticed Sylvain looking. “I’ll have the squash, I guess. Or spinach. Whatever.”

“Great. Both it is.” Sylvain’s insides still churned with rage at the Felix who thought he barely deserved food. How _dare_ he think that about himself? He made the pasta in silence.

When it was finally done, he split it between two bowls and said, “I’m not letting you eat alone. I’m sitting here with you until you finish. Got it?”

“Fine.” Felix snapped his laptop shut, looking profoundly unhappy.

The knot of anger in Sylvain’s chest dissolved. “Hey, Felix? If you finish it all, we can—I’ll—” He struggled to think of a reward that wasn’t also food.

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll…break open your dad’s whiskey supply and drink it with you? We can have little a salami. As a treat.”

It wasn’t really his to offer, nor did he think it was wise to bribe Felix with alcohol, but—okay, maybe he was projecting his own desire onto Felix a little bit. He hadn’t gotten well and truly drunk with another person since…he tried not to think about it.

But maybe it worked. Or at least Felix didn’t look quite so unhappy as he said, “Deal,” and raised his fork to his mouth. “Get ready to drink.”

_hey ingrid would u mind answering a quick question_

_sure whats the question_

_so, you know felix?_

_yes, ive met the guy once or twice_

_lol was that the question?_

_and how he is… how shall we say… a picky eater?_

_LET ME FINISH MY QUESTION_

_what are some of his favorite foods?_

_/end question_

_uhhh fried rice, grilled cheese, chicken tikka masala?_

_hmm yes anything else_

_um, fish and chicken in general, i guess_

_like, fish and chips? fish tacos as well_

_he also went through a french food phase in high school???_

_salad nicoise, coq au vin…_

_ok… this is weird but helpful information_

_quiche… stuff like that_

_ive even seen him enjoy shepherds pie, hes a freak_

_idk man, all i can say is that his tastes are weirdly european_ :/

 _idk if you can say that if you’re white_ :/

_ok well, its true!! he eats like a brit!_

_not all brits are white_

_he eats like a white brit!_

_(also, your middle name being jose doesnt make you any less white)_

_i understand that, thanks_

_so, beans on toast?_

_yes even beans on toast_

_haggis?_

_i….i dont know what that is_

_haha thats ok it was a joke_

_so did i pass the pop quiz?_

_yes i believe so_

_ok phew_

_that was like final jeopardy_

_oh wait: bonus round_

_oh goodie_

_desserts?_

_hes not a huge fan of sweets, as far as i know_

_but he will go for ice cream, or milkshakes_

_popsicles, frozen fruit, basically anything frozen_

_its like he doesnt taste the sugar in something if its cold enough?_

_well done, fifty points to gryffindor_

_im a hufflepuff_

_and i’m not a nerd. anyway!_

_thank u, i deeply appreciate your assistance_

_anytime pal_

_< 3 _

_< 3 _

Felix showered after their lunch (or dinner? linner?) and came back into the kitchen rubbing his forehead and complaining, “What was that godawful noise for the past five minutes?”

Sylvain looked up, holding the jar of the blender, the very proof of his guilt. “Oh I—I made us milkshakes. Vanilla.” He finished shaking the blended ice cream into two tall glasses and pushed one of them toward Felix. And suddenly felt very foolish.

The look on Felix’s face was… subtly wounded, Sylvain would say if forced to describe it. For a second, he thought Felix was going to cry for the third day in a row. But Felix just quietly said, “Thanks,” and accepted the milkshake. “Do you have a straw?”

He opened the silverware drawer, and Sylvain was struck by the action, struck by the fact that Felix now knew his way around his kitchen. The fact that Felix knew he owned reusable straws and would keep them in his silverware drawer.

Felix popped one of the metal straws into his glass and the other into Sylvain’s without asking. Sylvain didn’t mind at all. Felix started taking a sip, but Sylvain said, “Wait! I was—” He quickly grabbed the bottle of whiskey from its spot on the counter. “I thought we could have boozy shakes.” Felix’s lips curved around the straw, and Sylvain’s heart stuttered at the sight.

Felix held out his glass and said, “Well in that case, hit me.” As Sylvain measured it out and and poured it in, Felix said, “Who knew you were so full of good ideas?” Before Sylvain even had time to be insulted, Felix added, “Just kidding. I knew.” Sylvain nearly sloshed whiskey onto his hand while measuring the shot for himself.

Stirring the whiskey in with his straw, he offered, “Do you wanna hear another brilliant idea from the mind of Sylvain?”

“After this galaxy brain recipe? Absolutely.”

“Funny that you mention the galaxy! I heard that tonight is one of the best nights to see the meteor shower caused by Halley’s comet.”

Felix finished a sip of his milkshake and said, “I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

“Dude, it’s not astrology. It’s astronomy.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, for one, I’m not trying to tell you about your personality based on constellations, or predict your future based on rocks hurtling past the Earth a million miles away.”

Soon they were in Sylvain’s bedroom pushing open the window. Since the highest floor of the building was significantly smaller than the rest of the floors, there were wide rectangles of flat black roof that stretched along two sides of the few uppermost apartments. They could, conceivably, walk along the strip of roof and go knock on someone else’s window. But they wouldn’t do that, because that was entirely uncalled for.

Felix stood nervously next to him, waiting and holding their milkshakes in his hands. “Wait, why don’t we just go out on your balcony?”

“Aww, come on, man! Where’s your sense of adventure? Mystery? Romance? Drama? Climbing out onto the roof is ten times better.”

“I thought you said you’d never even opened that window until yesterday.”

“Well, you inspired me. Besides, we’ll stay a good five feet from the edge.” Sylvain contorted himself to climb out the window onto the roof below. “Here, pass me the milkshakes.”

Felix climbed out after him. His knees buckled as soon as he stepped onto the gritty black surface. With a hysterical little panic laugh, Felix said, “Oh, oh wow, I think my body wants my center of gravity to be firmly anchored on this roof.”

Sylvain laughed too, handing him back his glass. “I didn’t know you were afraid of heights.”

“Neither did I, until just this moment. My fucking knees just decided they would not be complicit in taking me any farther from the window.”

Felix gingerly adjusted into a sitting position next to Sylvain and pressed one palm flat onto the rooftop. “It’s nice how warm it is, though.”

“Yeah, the roof must hold the heat from the sun really well.”

“I feel like a lizard.” Felix lifted his hand from the rooftop and examined it as if checking for webbing between his fingers.

“Cold-blooded?” Sylvain suggested, grinning.

“No, like, finding a warm surface and laying on it.”

“That’s what cold-blooded means.”

“Ah. I’m usually called cold-blooded in a different sense,” said Felix. “Anyway. I’m sure it’s way too hot out here during the day, but it’s nice for tonight. With the milkshakes.” They fell into a warm silence. Well, silence aside from slurping the dregs of their milkshakes. “Oh, speaking of which, you never told me about that thing you were writing the other night.”

“Wh—how is that related to milkshakes? Or lizards?”

“Hmm… I could explain my train of thought, if you want,” Felix offered. (Sylvain had sometimes taken him up on it in the past, and the explanation was always a convoluted series of mental leaps that felt like a tour of wikipedia through hyperlinks.) “Or you could just tell me anyway.”

Darn. Sylvain had been kinda relieved that Felix seemed to have forgotten. “Yeah, that’s okay. I’ll tell you if you want. But it is kinda…heavy, I guess? It’s a bit...weird and personal.”

“I think I can handle your brand of weird and personal,” Felix said. “And if there is ever a time and place for talking deep shit, I think this is it.”

“Okay, if you’re sure…” Sylvain said uncertainly. “It’s a creative writing piece for a class I’m taking about fantasy and allegory. Mine is about a family of fire breathers—and not the circus act, I mean literal human dragons. Anyway, it’s a mother, father, and two children. An older brother and a younger sister. Their family business is forging weapons, and one of the kids is expected to take it on.”

Sylvain suddenly felt very exposed telling this story, but he went ahead with it anyway. “But the brother can’t breathe fire, so he learns how to fake it—like, the circus act version—to compete with his sister, who _can_ breathe fire. But the sister wants to be a glass-blower and hates making weapons, and doesn’t want to carry on the family business.

“The brother ends up challenging her to a formal contest in the forge, but he fatally burns himself, and meanwhile the sister still can’t forge a proper blade. She collapses over her brother’s body and screams at their parents for making them both into monsters and accidentally burns the forge down in the process. So then she runs away as a fugitive to a barren wasteland where she can never burn anything again.”

Sylvain supposed he should have anticipated the disturbed look on Felix’s face. For a moment, Felix was at a loss for words, peering into his empty glass as he rotated it in one hand, making the metal straw clink around as it rolled. “That’s…bleak.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize. But I guess I’m just wondering…”

“Yes?”

“Sorry if this is wrong, but… it’s your family, right?”

Oh. Sylvain had actually thought it was _too_ obvious, but— “Yeah. It’s my family.”

“I mean, it makes sense, but—” Felix cut himself off. “You haven’t burned anyone. You know that, right?”

Sylvain laughed humorlessly. “Haven’t I? As it turns out, acting badly to show the world what a piece of shit I think I am made me a piece of shit for real.”

Felix put his glass down. “You know, if you want to talk about it, you can.”

“Blegh. I have a therapist for that.”

“You have a therapist?” Felix didn’t sound judgmental—if anything, he sounded encouraging.

It still made Sylvain oddly resentful, though. “Ah, there I go oversharing again. But yeah, I figured since I’m still on my parents’ health insurance, why not waste our deductible on therapy? Call it reparations.”

“It’s not a waste if you’re using it,” said Felix.

Unfair, Sylvain thought. Felix shouldn’t be allowed to use his own words on him and make him feel like a hypocrite.

“And you can still talk to other people, too, you know,” Felix added.

Something like fury bubbled up in Sylvain. “You know what? Fine. I _do_ still blame myself for Miklan’s death. If it hadn’t been for me, my parents never would cut him off after—after what happened. But I was just a victim and my parents were trying to help, right? And I know that, on a rational level. But emotionally? Not so much.” He lay down flat on the warm roof, willing himself to feel it, but—nope. Nothing.

“And it certainly doesn’t help that my parents told me he would have lived if he had been more like me. They even said shit like that when he was alive. So duh, it makes total sense he would hate me. I turned him into the unwanted one just by existing,” Sylvain said, voice laced with bitterness.

“But I...I just wish he could have seen that I was trying to survive them, too. In my own way. Not that I think my way was morally superior or anything—I still ended up fucking up my life as soon as I had the freedom to. My dad was a great role model in that regard. But by a trick of fate, Miklan was the only one who actually inherited the brain chemistry. So in the end, the allegory doesn’t even make sense. Not even to me.”

Felix listened without saying a word. When it was clear Sylvain was done talking, he put a tentative hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. Sylvain let it wash the fight out of him. “Do you…wanna talk about why—”

“No. I’m done talking about it.” He looked away from the hurt on Felix’s face. “Anyway,” he said to change the topic, “on Saturday night I was adding an ending to it—kind of an epilogue, because the draft was too short and the professor said the story needed at least a note of hope in it.”

Felix’s hand stayed on his shoulder. “Can I see it? The draft?”

“Oh, uh. Sure. Why not.” Sylvain’s brain then came up with about ten reasons why not, but it was already too late to take it back.

And maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he wanted to trust Felix again. The thought wormed its way into Sylvain’s mind and wouldn’t leave. He climbed back through the window to get the draft.

He rejoined Felix on the roof and watched apprehensively as Felix read the print copy with comments from the peer-reviewer and professor in the margins. Well, he watched for a few minutes and then turned his eyes back to the sky without really seeing. The draft was about twenty pages long.

When Felix finally looked up, he said, “This draft got an _eighty-eight_? What do you have to do to get a hundred? Invent the fucking wheel?”

Hearing Felix say that didn’t fix everything instantly or anything, but it meant _something_ , because Sylvain knew that was Felix’s way of saying “this touched my soul.”

Sylvain’s own soul was still elsewhere, though. “Well, you can see her comments,” he said dismissively. “I kinda misunderstood the assignment. By ‘real life phenomena,’ she meant something more, like, broad. Systemic. Political or moral, not just an allegory for my own life. And my draft didn’t even meet the word count. I’m lucky she didn’t make me rewrite the whole thing.”

“Well, I thought it was pretty good.” Felix looked at the paper in his hands, conflicted. “Still fucking sad though.” They sat in silence after that.

By the time they climbed back inside, they were both in a weird depressive state. “Hey Felix,” Sylvain said, feeling nihilistic and numb, “we could have more whiskey. Why not, right? Life is short.”

Felix shrugged with a lopsided smile-frown and said, “Sure. It’s not the healthiest way of coping, but if life’s gonna be short anyway, I guess we might as well.” So they did.

And so, four more ounces of whiskey later, Sylvain found himself refilling Felix’s glass again, pouring another shot of whiskey over an ice cube in the same tall glass that had once held the milkshake. That was when Felix said, “Feed it to me.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Felix said, his smile lazy with drunkenness. “Feed it to me. Pour it into my mouth.” And the bizarre request was just what Sylvain needed. He didn’t even question it.

Chills ran through him as he leaned closer and lifted the glass to Felix’s mouth. Felix closed his eyes and tipped his head back, and Sylvain’s throat burned with vicarious thirst. And, as fucked up as it was, _that_ was his cure, the thing that turned all the death in him back into a desperation for life.

With the rim resting on Felix’s bottom lip, Sylvain tipped the glass with careful control—until the ice cube slid down and knocked Felix in the teeth. “Oh fuck, sorry—”

Felix just laughed and ruffled his hair, a familiar gesture Sylvain had sorely missed. That helped too.

“Dude, y’know what I just realized?” Sylvain asked, feeling dizzy.

“What?”

“We completely forgot to look for the meteors.”

“So we did.” Felix ruffled his hair again.

Alcohol tended to put Felix to sleep, but it had the opposite effect on Sylvain. Tonight wouldn’t be the first night that Sylvain had gotten into bed, tossed and turned, and then gotten out of bed four or five hours later to watch the sunrise. Tonight would, however, be the first night that he spent those sleepless hours in the same bed where Felix was sleeping beside him.

So yes, maybe as he lay there unable to sleep he glanced at Felix sometimes. Not for very long! But long enough to make him feel guilty about it. A mere half-foot of space separated them, but it split the world between them, impassable as a canyon.

The blanket draped beautifully over Felix as he lay on his side, creating a silhouette like a mountain range, with rounded peaks at his shoulder and hip and a strange, zigzagging topography where his legs bent. Knees stacked on top of each other, but one foot kicked out in front of the other.

Sylvain tore his eyes away and picked up his phone, hoping to distract himself from wondering how it would feel to place his hand on the soft slope of Felix’s waist.

The screen’s white background was blinding, shining bright as sunlight in his tired eyes. He quickly inverted the colors and checked the weather online.

He always kept his browser in private mode, so he had to manually allow the weather site to access his location data. Tonight, it made it feel as though his own phone had forgotten him. He scanned the weather page for what time the sun would rise. He scanned it again for rain.

He closed the tab and switched back from inverted colors. He quickly replaced his phone face down on the nightstand, but it felt rude, like not saying a proper goodnight. He picked it up again, allowed himself one more glance at Felix’s sleeping form, and started writing a note.

_May 5, 2020 at 2:07 AM_

_did we really used to sit on the floor between our beds and whisper late into the night? why didn’t we just pick a bed and both get in it?_

_was it just a year and a half ago that you and i used to sneak out together to lay on the grass side by side, drunk on nothing but the sheer stupidity of sneaking out of the dorm at 4am to lay on the hill? there were no rules against it, but i felt free as a bird. i remember how we shivered, our backs wet with dew._

_i remember us staring at the stars, pointing them out like they were treasures we could pluck out of the sky. tracing out lines between them, drawing the shapes we saw so that we could see them through each other’s eyes._

_our friendship was so young then. back then, i didn’t want anything more. i didn’t know i even could want anything more. your friendship was just an endless spring of joy._

_i remember feeling like my affection for you was selfless, and so, so deep that i could dive into it like a swimming pool. and not just dive, but jump off the high jump, do twenty backflips, and then slip into the water like i was a letter and it was my envelope. i would lay at the bottom, flat on my back, growing gills and breathing water like i was born to._

_but being around you hurt sometimes, in the strange empty way that hunger hurts in a stomach. it was the kind of hunger pain that made every morsel of food into the promise of a feast. it made every word you said into a sign._

_a sign?_

_a sign: when your eyes met mine, when you laughed at my jokes and my stomach twisted. a sign, of something i just couldn’t quite put my finger on. an itching, aching, craving for… something. something. something._

_it was the kind of ache that i would call a migraine and take ibuprofen for if it were in my head instead of my heart. it would force me to lie down for hours in the dark and just drown in every exquisite moment of raw sensation, helpless to the wildness within me._

_it felt almost spiritual. to lay down, and surrender, and suffer._

_but now i’ve gone and ruined everything. i’ve realized the depth of my feelings and poisoned the well with the truth of my own selfishness. now i know that i can want more. and i do. i want more. i can still lay in that pool of happiness, but i know that somewhere, there is an ocean, and i long for it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for discussion of disordered eating, alcohol, implied past abuse and mental illness. (If you've played fe3h, the last two of those are basically just a non-crest version of Sylvain's backstory.)
> 
> Oh and Felix isn't white bc neither am I :)


	7. sickening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday, May 5th. Felix wakes up from a dream to find he has some trouble talking to Sylvain, Lysithea, and Annette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter, but please check each chapter for content warnings (or if you know me in real life)!

When Felix fell asleep that night, he did not sleep soundly. He dreamed. Which was not only unusual, but especially improbable because he had dreamed the night before, too.

_In this dream, he woke up in someone else’s house. The house belonged to one of his high school teachers—Byleth. A young, handsome English teacher named Byleth. Mr. Eisner, actually. Felix had first been in his class as a freshman, and then he had secretly loved getting to be on a first name basis with him during his elective class in senior year._

_And in the dream, Byleth had a family of his own. Two children, and…a husband. They seemed to materialize out of thin air, forming a perfect and cohesive and happy family unit._

_Even as Felix sat eating breakfast at the table with them—and they were being very open and welcoming—he felt like he was seeing something private, something not meant to be seen by his eyes._

_(Of course, this would never happen in real life. It was utterly inappropriate for a teacher to let their student stay over like this, and Byleth would never have done that. But Felix dreamed of it anyway.)_

_Somehow Felix knew that it was Sunday. Maybe because there were pancakes and bacon in abundance, and some kind of frittata, all on painted blue pottery dishes that felt humanly warm in Felix’s hands as they were passed around the table._

_He felt dirty for thinking of the term “food porn” as he passed the unrealistically fluffy blueberry pancakes. But he couldn’t control his own thoughts. He could barely even hear them over his heartbeat thumping Danger, Danger, Danger._

_And Byleth smiled at him. Felix couldn’t help thinking, “It really kills me when he does that.”_

_He knew it was very…Holden Caulfield-esque of him, but it really killed him when Byleth looked into his eyes. Byleth looked into his eyes as though he actually saw him. As though he recognized something in there._

_It made this awful mix of hope and hopelessness rise up in Felix, and he choked on his own reaction. He wanted to smile back and cry at the same time. He looked down at his plate and found that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t bear to touch any of it._

Felix woke up the next morning feeling sad and antsy and terrible for no reason. The dream weighed on him like a cinder block on his chest. His throat still felt tight.

He glanced around, disoriented, and thought for a moment that he was waking up into another dream because he was in Sylvain’s apartment, but Sylvain wasn’t in the bed next to him. And judging from the watery quality of the light that slipped past the window shades, it was still fairly early in the morning.

He slipped quietly out of the bed and followed a scent of food to the kitchen. As he expected, there was Sylvain, way too perky for—what time was it? He looked at the clock on the microwave.

8:32am. Horrible. Awful. This really _was_ the timeline God had abandoned.

“Goooood morning!” Sylvain called out in greeting. “It is actually morning this time, right?” He also looked at the microwave display for confirmation. “Why are you up so early?”

“I really wish I knew.” Meanwhile, Felix noticed the oven had a timer set on it, and said timer had only 3 minutes left. “What’s in the oven?” he said, sliding into one of the barstool-chairs.

“Quiche,” Sylvain said, turning to look more closely at Felix. He frowned.

“What?” Felix asked, self-conscious. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, but your voice sounds…funny. Different. Are you feeling sick?”

 _Did_ his voice sound funny? Felix cleared his throat and realized, sure enough, he did feel a bit phlegmy. “I—I don’t think so? Maybe it’s allergies?” He supposed he did sound a bit more gravelly than usual. But he was mostly disconcerted by the astuteness of Sylvain’s guess—or maybe the attention that Sylvain apparently paid to the quality of his voice.

Sylvain frowned again and said suspiciously, “You’ve never had spring allergies before.”

Well, _that_ was entirely unnerving. Did Sylvain have psychic access to his medical history?

“Well, not like, _severe_ allergies, but—what are you asking, exactly?” Felix had just wanted a piece of quiche, not a HIPAA violation.

“I’m just saying, whatever I had a week ago started off with a stuffy nose.” Sylvain approached him and moved to lay a hand across his forehead.

“Okay, but most colds do,” Felix countered, ducking away from his hand. “It doesn’t mean it’s anything to worry about. And I’m not just saying that. It’s not… it’s not like the food thing.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Sylvain said, still sounding unconvinced.

The oven beeped once to alert them that there was one minute left on the timer, and Sylvain reluctantly left Felix alone to reach for his oven mitts instead. He stood at the ready in front of the oven, then finally removed the pie dish just as the timer went off. “Whew! Done,” he said, flinging off an oven mitt. It hit the kitchen cabinet and fell onto the counter.

Then he turned accusingly back to Felix. “I haven’t forgotten about you,” he warned. If it was supposed to be ominous, it failed. It was kinda sweet, in a disgusting, patronizing way.

“I should hope not, it’s only been one minute. So, can I try some of the quiche?” Felix hoped to distract Sylvain from his mysterious illness with his equally mysterious enthusiasm for quiche. Was it just a coincidence…?

His distraction failed. “Um, of course you can have some,” Sylvain said. “Give it a second to cool, though. So, is the congestion your only symptom?”

“Sylvain. Please. Chill. It’s just a head cold. I always get a cold when the seasons change.” Felix rolled his eyes. “No wonder you weren’t cut out for pre-med.”

Sylvain crossed his arms, looking insulted. “Listen, we can’t all be Ingrid.”

“God, I wish we could, though.”

“True. Can I make you tea?” Sylvain turned on the stove without waiting for an answer, but Felix wasn’t going to stop him. Then Sylvain stepped closer and leaned over the table to inspect him again. “The tea is free, but I’ve decided the price for a piece of quiche is that you take your temperature. Or just let me feel your forehead.”

Felix tried not to falter under Sylvain’s searching gaze. “Just feel my forehead already, then.”

Sylvain brushed the strands of hair out of the way with one hand before pressing the other to his forehead. “Hmm…” Biting his lip, Sylvain pulled his hand away from Felix and then pressed it to his own forehead for comparison. “Yeah, you’re kinda hot.”

“Wait, really?”

“Oh, not in terms of temperature, no,” Sylvain said, flashing him a grin. It was a good thing he didn’t still have his hand on Felix’s face when he said it, or he might have gotten a new reading.

“But all jokes aside,” Sylvain continued, “I think you’re fine. Or not feverish, at least. But I’m just a lousy English major, so who knows.” While Sylvain went to cut into the quiche, Felix set the table for them both, pouring glasses of water and feeling glad he would not be forced into bedrest.

“How’s your hand feeling, by the way?” Sylvain asked.

“Like I’m still recovering,” Felix replied, “from visiting a petting zoo that only had sharks.”

“Damn, you’re bruised, scraped, _and_ have a sore throat?”

“Listen, it’s been a rough few days. Or weeks. Or months. It’s been a rough year, okay?”

“You can say that again.” Sylvain scooped up one of the plates he was setting out and handed it back to him a second later with quiche on it, saying, “Voila! Bon appétit! Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir and all that jazz.”

“I don’t know what half of that meant, but thanks.” Felix was, thankfully, immune to French. (The language, not the food. The food was super-effective against him.)

He ate a forkful, and his mouth watered in a physical plea for more. Damn, he really had to stop forgetting that Sylvain could cook. Or bake, in this case.

He looked up to find Sylvain watching him, amused. “Aren’t you going to have any?” Felix asked.

“Oh, yes! I temporarily forgot.” Sylvain served himself a slice, and Felix began to suspect that Sylvain had made the quiche mostly for Felix’s sake rather than his own. Which made a lump form in his throat. He sipped his water trying to relieve it.

“So as I was saying,” Sylvain said, returning with a slice, “about your condition. So far your only symptom is a severe case blowjob voice?”

Felix nearly spat out his water. He just barely caught himself and forced himself to swallow. And then had to think about what that meant in the context of blowjob voice.

“I’m—” He squeezed his eyes shut and took what was meant to be a deep calming breath, but it wound up more like a tense, reverse sigh. “I would say I have a distinct lack of blowjob voice, actually.”

He opened his eyes just in time to see Sylvain say, “Oh? I could fix that.” Wearing that dumb flirty smile. Felix had the bizarre urge to reach out and feel that smile with his fingertips. To smush it out of existence, of course.

“God, you’re incorrigible,” he grumbled, eating more quiche to reinforce for his mouth exactly what its job was. He briefly weighed the pros and cons of self-immolation, before remembering that escaping this mortal plane on command was not within his skillset.

“Wow, Felix,” Sylvain said. “‘Incorrigible’! That’s a five-dollar word. I can’t believe you would use my love of long, hard words against me like this.” He batted his unfairly long eyelashes.

It drew Felix’s eye so effectively that he abruptly noticed the faint dark circles under Sylvain’s eyes. “Wait, did you even sleep last night?”

Sylvain made an apologetic face and said, “Oops!” with a little shrug of his shoulders. “Silly me! You know how it is sometimes.” He stuck his tongue out of one corner of his mouth.

Had he… stayed up to make this quiche? How fucking long did it take to make a quiche, anyway? It made Felix feel bad for enjoying it. “God, you’re so stupid,” he said with feeling.

“Yes, so I’ve been told,” Sylvain said pleasantly.

Felix began eating twice as fast so he wouldn’t have to speak. If that was Sylvain’s strategy to get him to eat, it was working. Once he was finally a member of the clean plate club again, Felix stood up, causing his chair to skid across the floor with a screech.

“Thanks for breakfast,” he said with as much dignity as he could manage while sounding like a deepthroating amateur. (Which he supposed he was, but in a different way than what the term implied—okay, moving on.) “I have a class at 10:05 and then another at 11:30. Should I set up in the living room again?”

“Or you can use my room. Whatever you prefer.”

 _How accommodating of Sylvain to invite everyone and everyone to use his bedroom_. Felix wasn’t sure why that was where his mind went first, but that was where it went.

“Um, thanks. Sure. Yeah, I’ll use your room,” he said. It was a faster way to get away from Sylvain than waiting for him to leave the combined kitchen-living-dining area.

“Maybe you should do a saltwater gargle for your throat?” Sylvain said to his retreating back.

Felix snapped, “Maybe you should gargle my dick and balls.” He heard Sylvain chuckle as he closed the bedroom door behind him.

And he still had about an hour to compose himself before class.

When he was finally done with his pathetic excuses for online classes, he marched himself back out to the kitchen, determined to make himself something for lunch. As tempting as it was to just coast on Sylvain’s newfound culinary skills, it felt wrong to let him do all the work for both of them. He pulled together a perfectly suitable PB&J.

It seemed a bit awkward to ignore Sylvain when he was just laying down and reading on the couch a few feet away, so Felix took his plate with him and said, “Scootch.” Without looking up from his book, Sylvain pulled his legs in to make room on the couch.

As soon as Felix sat, he extended his legs back out to rest in Felix’s lap and continued reading while using Felix as a footrest. Felix resigned himself to no conversation and decided to just eat his sandwich as if Sylvain’s feet were not on his thigh.

Through the wall of glass looking out onto Sylvain’s balcony, Felix spotted a petite girl with long white hair outside watering potted plants on her balcony, which was directly facing them. And for some reason, she looked vaguely familiar.

He prodded Sylvain’s foot and asked, “So, who’s your neighbor?”

“Neighbor?”

Felix pointed out the floor-to-ceiling windows. “The girl watering her plants.”

Sylvain lifted his head from the book. “Oh, her? Yeah, I have no idea.”

“Why not? Your balconies are like, seven feet apart. Never felt like saying hello?”

Sylvain’s face was hidden by his book again. “Well, one time I tried saying hi while she was hanging up her laundry to dry, and she hissed at me like a cat and ran back into her apartment.”

“She was hanging up her laundry? Dude, she probably thought you were creeping on her. Like, looking at her underwear or something.” He paused and pushed Sylvain’s book down onto his chest to look him in the eye. “You _weren’t_ looking at her underwear, right?”

Sylvain had enough dignity to look scandalized. “No! Are you kidding? She’s like, twelve!”

“I highly doubt a twelve year old is living independently in the apartment building across from yours.”

Then a thought occurred to Felix. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see Sylvain try to talk to a girl he _wasn’t_ attracted to? He wasn’t sure Sylvain even knew how to have a conversation without flirting.

If not, it was high time for him to learn. “Why don’t you try saying hi now? You know, since she’s not currently hanging up her underwear?”

“She wasn’t even hanging up her underwear in the first place!” Sylvain protested. But he let Felix shove him toward the sliding glass door. “Shouldn’t we put on masks?”

“She’s at least eight feet away from us, and outdoors. I think it’s fine,” Felix said as he herded Sylvain out the door.

Once she noticed them standing there, Sylvain awkwardly called out to her. “Uh, hello there,” he said, sounding strained.

The girl’s eyes instantly narrowed in disgust. “You again,” she said in a curt, nasally voice. Felix already found the exchange incredibly humorous.

Felix said, “Please excuse my idiot friend here—”

“Oh, are we friends?” Sylvain interrupted.

“—for whatever he did in the past,” Felix continued over him. “He usually—”

“He tried to water my plants with a squirt gun,” said the girl.

Of all the things Felix had expected, that wasn’t on the list. “I—what? Dude, why?” Sylvain at least had the decency to look sheepish, which was as good as confirming it. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. And as you can plainly see,” the girl continued, “they’re mostly herbs and succulents. They don’t require much water.” Felix saw that she did in fact have a teeny weeny spray bottle in her hand to mist them with. “Super-soaking them is quite harmful to their health, actually.” She glared pointedly at Sylvain.

“Sorry,” Sylvain said meekly. “I… yeah, I have no excuse. I just thought it would be fun. Sorry. To be honest, I thought you were away at the time…” Then Sylvain squinted at her. “Wait, you look kind of familiar, actually. Have we met somewhere before? And I’m not just saying that.”

The girl rolled her eyes and said, “Yes, I go to the same school as you. I had a class with Felix.”

Her name came back to him then. “Oh, Lysithea, right?”

“Yes, I—”

“Whoa, are you a freshman?” Sylvain interrupted. “Or wait, freshwoman? First-year? Actually, what are your pronouns, by the way?”

Lysithea glared at him again. “She and her. And no, I’m none of the above, and I don’t appreciate people making inane assumptions based solely on my appearance. I’m in the same year as you. In my _third_ year of college.”

“Uh huh,” Sylvain said, skeptical. “How many years of school did you skip to get there?”

She literally hissed at Sylvain, which made Felix like her even more. Perhaps it was true what they said about short people having more concentrated anger.

“One,” Felix said in response to Sylvain’s question. “She skipped one year.” It had been her fun fact during one of the many introduction games they were forced to play.

Lysithea turned her glare on him with a snarky, “Shut it, Felix. I’m 20 years old, and I will be 21 within a year—”

“Isn’t that how age always works?” Sylvain said, confused.

“—and not only that,” Lysithea went on, ignoring Sylvain, “but you also sound like you’ve been chain-smoking, so maybe you should save your voice. Talking so much shit like this can’t possibly be good for your throat.”

Felix’s face colored—though less because of what Lysithea had said than at remembering what Sylvain attributed his scratchy voice to earlier.

Sylvain snickered and said, “Oh, I think I like this kid already.”

“I’m not a kid!” Lysithea stamped her foot on the ground, distraught.

Sylvain held up his hands innocently. “Sorry, it’s just a saying!”

Lysithea crossed her arms, took a deep calming breath, and said, “So. Are you two…quarantining together?”

“No!” said Felix.

“Yes,” said Sylvain.

Lysithea laughed at them. “Relax, I really meant just being in quarantine together, not… you know, ‘being together in quarantine’. Though that would also be fine.”

“We’re not,” Felix mumbled at his feet. “Together. In that way.”

“What?” Lysithea cupped her hand to her ear. “Sorry, can you say that again?”

“No,” Felix said loud and clear.

“You’ll have to forgive him, he’s a little touchy about the state of his throat right now,” Sylvain said as an explanation, putting an arm around his shoulders. Felix ignored him and began plotting how to murder Sylvain for the fifteenth time today. The balcony made it quite an easy task.

He turned his gaze back to Lysithea. “So you’re an astrophysics major, right?” he asked as more memories came back to him. “Did you see any of the meteors recently? We tried to see them yesterday evening, but no luck.”

“I assume you’re referring to the Eta Aquariids,” she said matter-of-factly, like she already had her response memorized by rote. “You likely can’t see them with the naked eye from here, due to the city’s light pollution. Additionally, they are best viewed in the early hours of the morning, before dawn. But I do have a friend who’s interning for a planetarium and sent me some images. So yes, I would say I’ve seen them.”

Felix gave Sylvain a knowing look. “See? I told you we wouldn’t be able to see it.”

“You didn’t even know about them until I told you!” Sylvain said, indignant.

“Yeah, but she knows more about astrology than you,” Felix said.

They both whirled on him and shouted, “Astronomy!”

It took real effort for Felix not to smile in response. “Finally,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “something you both can agree on! Well, it’s nice to see you, Lysithea. Maybe we can have a balcony meet-up again sometime.”

“I might be amenable to that,” she said reasonably.

“Ooh! A veranda rendezvous,” Sylvain chimed in with a wink. The look on Lysithea’s face showed that the prospect had just become a little less likely.

Then Sylvain noticed Felix moving to go back inside and said, “Oh, like, that’s it? We’re going back inside already?”

“You don’t have to,” Felix said. “You’re welcome to stay out here and get more acquainted, but I made plans to talk with a friend today.”

“Noooo Felix, don’t leave me!” Sylvain cried, reaching for him with babyish grabby hands.

“Nuh-uh,” Lysithea told Sylvain sternly. “You’re not going anywhere. We still have to talk about how you’ll compensate me for the super-soaker incident.” She jabbed a threatening finger at him, which was only slightly less threatening since she was seven feet away.

Sylvain looked afraid. Felix pushed open the sliding door mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done.

Felix used his rare alone time to facetime with Annette.

Felix was notoriously terrible about keeping in touch via text. Seeing as he often could not make heads or tails of a conversation—even with all the clues like tone of voice and facial expressions—texting about anything meaningful was always an opportunity for miscommunication. So aside from the occasional quick question or brief update about his life, he preferred video or phone call for talking with close friends.

When Annette picked up the call, she cried, “Felix! About time you called! It’s been, what, three whole days?” She giggled at her own incredible sense of humor.

“Hi Annette. How are things in Pennsylvania?”

“Oh, you know!” she said cheerfully. “I never asked to be born here.”

From off-screen, he heard Mercedes say, “Oh, is that Felix?” Mercedes’ face popped into view, her light wavy hair in a loose braid that reminded Felix of a loaf of challah. “Hello, Felix!” she said brightly.

“Hi, Mercedes. It’s nice to see you.” She took that as a hint that she could join them for the call, which it absolutely was.

Mercedes sat down next to Annette, who frowned through the computer screen and said, “Are you okay, Felix? You sound like you—”

“Like I’ve been sucking too much dick? Or smoking a pack a day? I’ve heard both of those already.”

Annette grinned impishly. “I was going to say ‘like you have a frog in your throat,’ but I guess Sylvain beat me to the punch! And with much more evocative metaphors, apparently.” Mercedes giggled along with her.

Annette launched straight into teasing. “So, how is life with dear old Sylvain? Nice to be back with him, hmm?”

“Oh! I didn’t know you two dated!” Mercedes said excitedly.

“Ugh, no,” Felix said. “We didn’t. We were just roommates. And now I have been forced to quarantine with him due to circumstances outside of my control.”

“And they were roommates!” Annette squealed without pause. “So, how long until you wind up in his bed? I feel like Sylvain’s average wooing time is like a week, but maybe the effects are stronger when there’s no escape from him,” she gushed in that bubbly way of hers before Felix could get a word in edgewise. “And you don’t even have any competition! You’re getting, like, the maximum dosage! Constant exposure! Undiluted Sylvain time!”

Felix rubbed tiredly at his temple and mumbled, “We’re already in the same bed, but that doesn’t mean—”

Mercedes and Annette both lost their shit. Mercedes’ eyebrows shot up her forehead while Annette guffawed and exclaimed, “You mean you get into bed with him every night and _haven’t_ had sex? I feel like you deserve an award for that alone.”

“It’s a queen bed—”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Annette said.

“—and we don’t even touch—and hey, I won’t hook up with just anyone because I’m quarantined with them!” Okay, so maybe Sylvain wasn’t _just anyone_ , but—

“Besides,” Felix added, “I’m not gay, and Sylvain is definitely not interested in guys.” Clearly. Since he and Sylvain had never talked about what happened sophomore year.

Annette laughed. “Are you kidding me? Given his recent dating history, Sylvain is, like, the most bisexual person I’ve ever met. The most bisexual bi to ever sexual—and by god, does he sexual! Not that my word is the word of god or anything, but I _am_ a trans bisexual myself. I know my stuff. I’ve been gay both ways.” She patted herself on the back for that one. “Me and Ashe are just powerful like that.”

Mercedes sighed good-naturedly and said, “Well, as the resident lesbian of the friend group, I do think I should point out that his ‘recent dating history’ is a separate thing from his sexual orientation. I dated boys when I was younger.”

Annette inclined her head thoughtfully. “Point taken.”

“In fact, I think he might actually still be questioning—”

But Felix’s mind had latched onto a different point. “Wait, what dating history? Sylvain has dated guys?”

Annette shrugged as if the details weren’t important. “Well, not daaaated exactly...”

Felix could already feel his ears ringing. “Then who did—who did he—” _have sex with?_ That made it even worse.

“I think he hooked up with Ashe? Like, right before Ashe and Dedue started dating,” said Annette.

Mercedes nodded in agreement. “But that was after he hooked up with Dorothea, right?”

“Yeah, but like you said, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. And he didn’t, like, brag about either of them for clout the way he would’ve in freshman or sophomore year. Oh, and didn’t he also hook up with Linhardt at that party before fall break?”

Mercedes looked taken aback. “I thought Linhardt was dating Caspar!”

“Oh, no no no, they had broken up at the time,” Annette assured her. “So it wasn’t cheating or anything. I don’t think Sylvain would ever knowingly help someone cheat—though he must know that he’s frequently used as a rebound, right? Anyway, Linhardt and Caspar didn’t get back together until after Thanksgiving, and that was when Sylvain hooked up with Ashe. Though I think Sylvain said they only made out…”

“I—is that not what ‘hooking up’ means?” Mercedes said, blinking in confusion.

But Annette seemed to be carrying on a full conversation with herself. “Actually, I think Sylvain said they got to ‘somewhere between second and third base,’ but to be honest, I’m not really sure what that means in a gay context…? Or any context, actually. Is second base, like, taking your shirts off?”

Felix fought the temptation to cover his ears and scream. “Am I the only one who doesn’t know _any_ of this?” he demanded. And he wasn’t referring to the sexual base terminology.

Annette and Mercedes both seemed to suddenly remember he was on the call with them. Mercedes cocked her head curiously and said, “You mean you two don’t talk about this kind of thing? I guess I just assumed…since you two used to be so close…”

Annette gave him a puzzled look. “Why is this bothering you so much?”

“It’s not _bothering_ me, it’s just—” He couldn’t think of anything to end the sentence. This entire conversation had devolved into madness.

Delighted, Annette cooed, “Oh my gosh, do you _like_ him? Maybe even _like-_ like him?”

“Aww, Annie, don’t tease him too much.” Mercedes looked imploringly at Annette and gestured toward the computer screen, which made Felix feel like the saddest fish in the aquarium. “He’s clearly upset.”

“I’m not—” He pitched his voice back down to something less obviously upset. “I’m not upset. I’m just surprised.”

Annette regarded him with frank disbelief. “Felix, you know you’re not a good liar, right? You have literally no reason to be surprised. We all know that Sylvain gets around. You totally like him! And that’s okay! I still love you, despite your taste in men.”

“Oh my fucking god.” He rubbed his forehead. “Can we just—stop talking about it, please?”

Realization dawned on Annette’s face. “Holy shit, you really _do_ like him! I’m right, aren’t I?”

“No.”

Annette did not care to hear his opinion on the matter. “Oh my gosh, this is amazing! I guess that actually makes a lot of sense. You were always uncharacteristically touchy-feely with him, after all.”

“We haven’t even done anything!” Felix protested.

Annette just grinned at him.

“What?” he demanded.

“That’s when most people would say ‘and we never will.' But I guess you have plans.”

Mercedes laughed.

Through a clenched jaw, Felix hissed back, “No. I do not like Sylvain. I don’t know where you’re getting this from.”

“Suuuure you don’t,” said Annette.

“I don’t!”

Annette said in a sing-song voice, “I do not like him, Sam I Am, I do not like green eggs and ham.” Even Mercedes looked unimpressed by Felix’s denial.

Felix threw up his hands in frustration. “I really don’t! Are you kidding me? I can barely stand him! He’s—he—” Annette and Mercedes were both giving him weird pitying looks, which prompted him to snap, “Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious.”

“Well, I wasn’t saying it to be serious, but if you’re taking it seriously…” Annette raised an eyebrow suggestively. “But if you’re so unhappy with him, why don’t you just go home and quarantine in your room?”

“You know why,” Felix said sullenly. “My dad is on anti-rejection meds, so his immune system is like, non-functional. And I know we don’t get along great, but that doesn’t mean I want him to fucking _die_.”

Mercedes nodded sympathetically. “Same reason that I’m here with Annette.” She gave Annette a kiss on the side of the head and fondly added, “In addition to just loving her, of course.” They were so sweet together it made Felix’s teeth hurt.

Annette giggled and held Mercedes’ hand, saying, “Yeah! Enough about your love life, Felix, let’s talk about mine.”

“Yes. Please.” That would be a drastic improvement on the conversation topic.

“Soooo, guess what?” Annette grinned like it was big news.

Felix was stumped. It must not be Annette’s usual _Mercedes said this, Mercedes and I did that_ , because why would she want to tell him that with Mercedes sitting right next to her?

“Oh no, you’re not… _engaged_ or something, right? Is—is someone pregnant?”

Mercedes said, “What? No! Annie and I are celebrating our one year anniversary today!”

“Oh, good,” he said, feeling foolish but relieved that it wasn’t a bigger announcement. “I mean, congratulations! I’m very happy for you two.” Not that they needed his happiness; Mercedes’ sweet smile and Annette’s infectious giggling were both overflowing with joy.

“Ooh, and guess what else?” Annette said. “Though this one isn’t about my love life.”

Felix was fairly confident he had this one. “Your birthday is coming up, isn’t it?”

She nodded energetically. “Sure is! And I’m having a virtual party! And you’re invited!”

“A virtual party? You can do that?”

“Oh, Felix. I can, should, must, and will! Your presence is requested—no, I misspoke—your attendance is _mandatory_! So mark your calendar! Saturday, May 9th, at 7pm. And Sylvain is invited too, of course,” she said with a wink.

Felix opted to ignore the last part and got out his phone, saying, “Yeah, I think I can pencil you into my busy schedule.”

“Excellent! Does that mean you’re RSVP’ing yes?” She drummed her fingers together in excitement.

“Indeed it does,” he said, cracking a smile because Annette just had that effect on people.

“Ohoho, the plan is all coming together!” she said sinisterly. “But my most urgent plan right now is dinner! We’ll talk to you later, buddy!”

“Bye Felix!” Mercedes said.

“Okay, bye, you two,” Felix said, smiling in spite of himself.

“Bye!”

“See you!”

“Thanks for calling!”

They all waved at each other like idiots until someone on Annette’s end finally hung up.

As Felix ate dinner with Sylvain later that evening, he nearly forgot all about the invitation until Sylvain said, “Maybe you should go to sleep early tonight. Since you’re sick.”

“I’m no sicker than you,” Felix immediately retorted.

“Just a suggestion,” Sylvain said. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Felix rolled his eyes and said, “I’m not going to bed, it’s only 8pm.” Then he paused and he pushed his last bite of food around with his fork. “By the way, you’re invited to Annette’s virtual birthday party.”

“You bet I am!” Sylvain happily responded. “7pm on Saturday, right? Mercedes actually texted me about it a few hours ago. I saw it when Lysithea and I finished working out the terms of our agreement.”

“Oh? What are the terms of your agreement?”

Sylvain grinned wickedly and said, “Cookies.”

“Cookies?”

“Yes, she said she’ll forgive me in exchange for a batch of chocolate chip cookies.” The statement should have been straightforward, but something about the look in Sylvain’s eyes made it seem malevolent.

Felix raised an eyebrow. “Why do you look so happy about that?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to learn how to make cookies?”

Fuck. Felix groaned in disbelief.

“Haha! Outsmarted again!” Sylvain gloated.

Felix finished eating with as much dignity as he could. And then, conversationally, calmly, he said, “Sylvain?”

“Yes?”

“You know how I always say I will ultimately kill you?”

“Yes! I’ve been looking forward to it. I vote that you impale me.”

“Too bad. I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “I won’t even kill you, I’ll just toss you in your grave and bury you and let you and the dirt figure out the rest.”

“Aww, why?” Sylvain whined.

“Because I hate you more than words can describe.”

Sylvain laughed. “You say that, but I know you love me.”

Felix threw up his hands. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Sylvain didn’t say anything but grinned even wider.

Fuck. Felix felt his face go red again.

He could sense Sylvain’s eyes on him as he put his dishes into the dishwasher and snatched up his glass of water from the table, hissing, “I swear to god, I’m going to slice off your fingers in your sleep. Goodnight,” before stomping away with a sense of finality. Sylvain just beamed at him as he stubbornly marched himself down the hallway and into an early bedtime.

When Sylvain climbed into the bed hours later, Felix whacked him with the divorce pillow a few times in the dark to make sure he had made his feelings crystal clear. Sylvain laughed without fighting back and said, “Go to sleep already, you invalid!” Felix rolled resolutely onto his bruised side and resumed ignoring him, sad that the surprise attack didn’t seem to strike fear into Sylvain’s heart as intended.

“Goodnight, Felix,” Sylvain’s voice said from behind him. Felix pretended to already be asleep.


	8. moving on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday, May 5th. Felix remembers the first time he had something in common with Sylvain while trying to fall asleep, and then has a dream that reminds him the past is never really gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some content warnings for this chapter are in the endnotes!

_Freshman year, as the year changed from 2017 to 2018. A series of events that shifted Felix’s life from winter to spring._

_The second time that Felix saw Sylvain was in late November, at a university-organized social event for freshmen called “Fire for First-years!” (After nearly a semester spent with them, Felix privately thought that fire was what many of them deserved.) Felix was only going for the s’mores._

_On the way out of his room, he bumped into Annette, a girl he had talked to a few times who lived just down the hall. Except this time it wasn’t because the people next-door to her were smoking an irritating amount of weed; Annette apparently shared his enthusiasm for hellfire and s’mores. They were both going early to make sure the supplies wouldn’t run out before they got any._

_The university grounds crew had set up a central bonfire and several smaller fire pits, each surrounded by lightweight wicker chairs with stiff, multicolor outdoor cushions. Felix had no idea where the budget for shit like this came from. He and Annette started making s'mores as more freshmen slowly filtered in, taking up chairs and shedding jackets as the fires warmed them up._

_They were each on their second s’more when Felix spotted two familiar looking outlines—a girl with long blonde hair and a tall guy with a shock of coppery red hair. When the redhead turned to grab a graham cracker, Felix caught a glimpse of his profile, and—yep, that was him, alright. And he looked better with his shirt on._

_(Well duh, of course he looked better with a shirt on. Felix obviously didn’t want to see him in nipple tassels again. But that was neither here nor there.)_

_“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck,” Felix chanted under his breath, “I think I know someone over there.”_

_“Ooh, who?” Annette asked, completely missing his panic. “The cute blonde girl? We should go say hi!” She shot a smile across the circle and grabbed Felix’s hand, trying to pull him to his feet._

_He refused to budge. “No! I mean, yes, I’ve met the blonde girl before too—but no we can’t go over there!”_

_Annette pouted and said, “Why not?” She seemed to have taken it upon herself to try to force Felix to make friends. Which was sweet, in that it reminded him of Ingrid (and Glenn, in the back of his mind). But she was being especially adamant that day, for some reason._

_“Because no!” Felix insisted. “The redhead and I, we got in a fight at a Halloween party—which was not my fault, but also not NOT my fault—oh fuck they’re looking over here—”_

_Felix blanched and stupidly tried to hide his face behind Annette’s shoulder, which made no sense because she was shorter than him. Upon further reflection, he had decided he had no desire to square up against Sylvain again. Sylvain looked like he could whoop ass if he really wanted to._

_He peeked out from behind Annette’s shoulder as they inevitably approached. “Hello!” greeted the blonde girl at the same time as Felix blurted, “Truce?” at Sylvain._

_“Wow, that was easier than I expected?” Sylvain chuckled nervously._

_It didn’t impress Felix much. Sylvain probably used that same helpless chuckle to get him out of any problem a wink couldn’t solve. And it probably worked most of the time, because Sylvain had the kind of face that made girls surrender their phone numbers, home addresses, and fucking social security numbers._

_“I wanted to apologize,” Sylvain said. “For pouring a drink on you. And licking your hand. And uh, pinning you to a wall. There were…quite a few dick moves made on my part.”_

_A snort of laughter poorly disguised as a cough made them all turn to look at Annette. “Uh, sure is smoky here,” she said, waving toward the bonfire._

_“A-anyway,” Sylvain continued, “I’m sorry. A truce sounds good.”_

_“Oh thank god,” Felix sighed. “I thought you were coming over here to beat me up.” Sylvain gave him a look that was half pained, half amused. “And um, I’m sorry too. For, uh, also pouring a drink on you. And trying to punch you.”_

_“And spitting on me,” Sylvain pointed out._

_Felix glared. “Yes. And spitting on you.” He had almost managed to forget that part._

_“Geez, what the hell kinda party was this?” Annette asked, poking Felix teasingly in the arm. “And why wasn’t I invited?”_

_Sylvain grinned. “Apology accepted. No harm done! Besides, it was kinda fun, right?” Felix gave him a skeptical look._

_The blonde girl beside Sylvain giggled. “Your name is Felix, right? Ingrid’s childhood friend?” she asked in her sweet, airy voice. (Felix had thought she had been putting it on as part of her Halloween costume, but nope, it was her natural voice.) “Would you introduce us to your friend here?”_

_“Oh, right. This is Annette.” Annette threw up a grin and a peace sign. “Annette, this is Sylvain and M...mercy.” Wait, no, that was the Overwatch character. Fuck._

_“Wow, I didn’t know we were on the nickname level already!” the blonde girl exclaimed, seeming delighted by this turn of events. (Too late, it came back to Felix that her full name was Mercedes.) “Do you have a nickname?”_

_“Annie,” Annette said, though Felix could have sworn the question was addressed to him._

_Not sure if his input was still wanted, he added, “Um, my brother called me Fe...” He hoped no one would inquire about his use of the past tense._

_“My exes call me ‘the one that got away’,” Sylvain chimed in._

_“I sincerely doubt that, somehow,” Felix said under his breath._

_Sylvain grinned. “I see you’re charming as ever... Fe.” He stressed the single syllable in a suggestive tone that Felix felt, frankly, quite offended by._

_“Yeah, on second thought, don’t call me that. You and I aren’t on that level yet.”_

_“Yet,” Sylvain repeated ominously, teeth gleaming deviously in the firelight. Felix’s spine tingled. “Well, we gotta go make our s’mores. Would you two be willing to save those chairs for us?” Sylvain asked, gesturing at the empty chairs in their arranged clump of furniture._

_“Sure!” Annette chirped._

_Sylvain and Mercedes returned a couple minutes later with properly roasted marshmallows in hand. “It’s a shame,” Mercedes said as she assembled her s’more. “I think they just ran out of graham crackers.”_

_“Yeah, that’s too bad,” Annette agreed._

_“Well, if you guys want the fun to continue,” Sylvain started, “I was planning to crash a…a small gathering after this, if you want to join.”_

_“A small gathering?” Felix repeated skeptically._

_“I was afraid the word ‘party’ might bring up some bad memories for you.”_

_“I can go to parties!” Felix insisted, even though Halloween had just reminded him how much he hated them._

_“Then you’ll come with us?” Mercedes asked, eyes shining hopefully._

_“Yes,” Annette said emphatically. (Seriously, what was with her that night?)_

_“I’m not drinking tonight, though,” Felix said. “I have work tomorrow morning.”_

_“That’s fine!” said Mercedes._

_“Yeah, that’s cool! I’m already three shots in,” Sylvain said brightly._

_“You pre-gamed to roast marshmallows?” Felix asked, incredulous. He would never have known if Sylvain hadn’t said anything. But on second thought, Sylvain did seem a bit... uninhibited. It was hard to tell, though. Maybe having no boundaries was just Sylvain’s default state of being._

_As they left the bonfire event, Annette leaned up on her tiptoes to giggle in Felix’s ear, “For real, you gotta tell me what happened on Halloween! Sounds like one hell of a meet-cute.”_

_When they arrived at their destination, it turned out the “small gathering” in question was somehow not as bad as the Halloween party, yet simultaneously worse than it._

_“Ugh, this is why I hate house parties,” Felix groaned as they opened the door and they heard the true earsplitting volume of the music inside. “We won’t be able to hear ourselves speak.”_

_“If you hate parties, why do you keep coming?” Sylvain asked._

_“You know, that’s a really excellent question. I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”_

_The music was so loud, in fact, that they had to shout to communicate as soon as they entered the building. It made everything they said sound unnecessarily alarming to Felix’s ears._

_“I’m going to find the snack table!” Mercedes called to them before she slipped away through the entranceway of mingling people._

_“Ooh, me too!” said Annette._

_Sylvain linked arms with Felix and steered him into the main room where people were dancing. “C’mon, Fe, let’s dance!”_

_“No!” Felix yelled back. “I don’t dance! And stop calling me that!”_

_“Aww, please?! I’m celebrating tonight!”_

_“What are you celebrating?!”_

_Sylvain beamed. “I’m celebrating dropping pre-med! I’m an English major now!” He threw his arms up and closed his eyes, swaying blissfully to the music._

_“What?!” Felix thought for sure he had misheard. “You can read?!”_

_Sylvain either didn’t hear him or pretended not to. “I withdrew from Calculus!” he shouted happily. When he opened his eyes and saw the look Felix was giving him, he added, “Hey, we can’t all be good girls like you and Ingrid! But if you’re not gonna dance, wanna go play seven minutes in heaven?!” He pointed to a side room where there was a circle of people sitting on the floor._

_“No!” Felix said, feeling the bass of the music pound in his chest._

_“Suit yourself!” Sylvain said before slipping away through the crowd._

_Felix fought the urge to follow him (since he was the one familiar person in the vicinity, after all) and began looking for Annette or Mercedes to latch back onto instead._

_He caught up with her as she also seemed to be wandering in circles around the place. “Annette!”_

_“Hey Felix, have you seen Mercie?!” she asked, distracted._

_“No?! Why, what’s going on?! Is something wrong?!”_

_Annette picked that moment to make eye contact with him and shout over the music, “Nothing’s wrong! I’m just gay! Well, actually, bisexual! But right now the relevant part is that I’m gay!” She grabbed his hand for the second time that night and dragged him around behind her._

_“Are there any letters of LGBT that you aren’t?!”_

_“Yes! I’m not a lesbian! But I’m hoping Mercie might be! I mean, we can be friends either way, but—” Annette finally spotted her and pulled Felix along._

_Mercedes had found the food, as promised. She had already filled a paper plate. “Hey guys!” she greeted them eagerly. “Look what I found!” she said holding up a cookie between bites._

_“No way!” Felix said. “A single oreo?!” Unfortunately, sarcasm didn’t come across well through shouting._

_Mercedes giggled. “Well, yeah! I’m really just here for the food!”_

_Annette feigned a swoon. “A woman after my own heart!”_

_Mercedes smiled back at her. “Wanna take some snacks and go some quieter?!”_

_She and Annette left, balancing impressive amounts of snacks, both sweet and salty, on their plates. “Felix! Get your food and meet us outside!” Annette giggled as she retreated._

_“Okay!” Felix called back, sounding far more peppy than he felt. He wanted to leave too, but felt honor-bound to track down Sylvain and make sure he left with some food as well. Plus, wasn’t there a buddy system or something?_

_He found his way back to where he’d last seen Sylvain and entered the room where people were circled up on the floor. It was, blessedly, a bit quieter. His vocal chords would be relieved to not have to work so hard._

_“Excuse me, have you seen—” he started to ask the person nearest him. He then did a double-take. “Hey, have I met you somewhere?”_

_It was the girl with bubblegum pink hair again. “Oh yeah! I’m Hilda,” she said. “And you’re—”_

_“Felix. Have you seen a red haired guy, a bit taller than me, and—”_

_“Oh, Sylvain?” Hilda grinned impishly. “Yeah, he’s playing seven minutes in heaven. He’s currently one of the ones in heaven, if you know what I mean,” she said with an inelegant giggle._

_Ugh. Sylvain, you stupid fop. Felix marched off and flung open the closest door, which opened to an empty bathroom. Not there, then. He went for the next nearest door, which was locked. He emerged into the hallway again and tried a third door just across the hall._

_It opened to a closet. The open doorway let light fall on Sylvain, who stood among the hanging jackets, pressing a girl up against the wall with his tongue halfway down her throat. And a hand on her boob. And a hand up her skirt._

_The girl yelped and jumped violently at the intrusion. Felix eloquently said, “Um. I’ll be at the snack table,” before he shut the door on them and fled. Sylvain would have to find the snack table on his own._

_It took fifteen minutes for Sylvain to show up, by which time Felix had eaten an astounding mountain of pretzels just to have something to do. In fact, he had finished off the bag while other partygoers had drifted in and out and devoured everything else. “You’re too late!” he yelled at Sylvain. “There are no more snacks!”_

_“Yeah there is! I’m right here, aren’t I?!” Sylvain yelled back. Was it just Felix, or was Sylvain’s hair looking a little more messy than before? “You didn’t have to wait for me, you know!”_

_“I wasn’t waiting! I was eating pretzels!” Felix then felt very stupid for yelling that to the whole room. “Come on, we’re leaving!” he barked, linking their elbows and tugging Sylvain sharply behind him as he cut a path to the door. If Sylvain had dragged him into this party, that gave him the right to drag Sylvain right back out of it._

_As they emerged from the cacophony, Felix said, “So? Who was that?” Just for the sake of making conversation._

_“Who? The girl? No idea what her name was. Wasn’t she cute, though?”_

_Luckily Felix was spared having to respond by spotting Mercedes and Annette on a bench across the street._

_“Felix! What took you so long?” Annette asked. “And no snacks?”_

_“Only me, I’m afraid!” Sylvain said. He (infuriatingly) ruffled his own hair. “Ooh, can I have a cookie? I’m celebrating today.” Annette and Mercedes’ own paper plates were next to them on the bench, mostly but not entirely depleted._

_“Sure, I’m done,” Annette said, handing her plate over. “What are you celebrating?”_

_“I dropped pre-med!” Sylvain said with just as much enthusiasm as earlier. “And also my brother died a year ago today.”_

_What a casual way to drop a bomb. Felix and Annette looked at each other, and then at Mercedes, who made a helpless apologetic face._

_Felix hesitantly said, “I’m…so sorry to hear that...”_

_“Nah, it’s okay, I don’t miss him much.” The shock must have shown on Felix’s face, because Mercedes shook her head sharply at him from behind Sylvain._

_But Felix didn’t get the signal. “How can you even say that?” he demanded. Mercedes winced preemptively._

_Sylvain smiled and shrugged. “Well, he kinda assaulted me, so...”_

_As the horrifying implications swept over him, Felix realized he apparently hadn’t been able to read Sylvain at all. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t know.”_

_“Yeah, of course,” Sylvain said, eating his Chips Ahoy, “you couldn’t have known. I hadn’t told you yet. I get around to telling everyone eventually, but…” He shrugged again._

_“Why did—” Felix suddenly realized what he was asking and shut his mouth. There was never a good reason._

_“Oh, he just didn’t like me for being the golden boy without even trying,” Sylvain said, seemingly unaffected. “There’s a hidden cost to being this smart, strong and sexy all the time, you know!” He smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes._

_After such a heavy revelation, Felix felt like it was his turn to give something up. “I... I know this almost definitely doesn’t help—and I’m not trying to make it about myself, but maybe it would help explain my reaction to know—my brother died earlier this year. In May.”_

_Mercedes, Annette, and Sylvain all looked at him with varying degrees of surprise. “I didn’t know that,” Annette said._

_“Yeah. I, um, haven’t really told anyone at college.” It was easier to handle it privately, without everyone around him being all twitchy and cautious about it—or worse, pitying. “I just didn’t want that to be one of the first things people knew about me.”_

_Sylvain actually looked the most bothered of the three of them. “Ah. I’m sorry,” he said, sounding mildly regretful. “That really makes me sound like a jerk, huh? I mean, assuming your brother wasn’t shitty like mine. Older?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Mine too.” The four of them sat in awkward silence for a moment before Sylvain perked up and said, “Well! That’s refreshing! This is the first time that someone has responded to my oversharing by joining in. Guess we have something in common, then?”_

_Annette and Mercedes both made faces that showed they found the conversation extremely uncomfortable, but Felix knowingly arched an eyebrow and said, “Yep. Dead older brothers.”_

_And it shouldn’t have been funny, but the corners of his lips turned up at the irony of bonding over the topic. Even now, Glenn was helping him make friends._

_Sylvain cracked a little smile too. He just understood, somehow. “Finally,” he said. “Someone as fucked up as me.”_

_Felix’s smile got a bit more uncontrollable. “Hmm. Not sure I believe that from the guy who can’t even name everyone he’s kissed today.”_

_“Sorry, I couldn’t hear her name over the sound of you getting railed by the stick up your ass, Mr. I Don’t Dance.”_

_“I would rather be fucked in the ass than fucked in the head like you.”_

_“Why settle for one when you could be both?” Sylvain asked, sounding delighted._

_“Are you speaking from experience?”_

_Sylvain had a hearty laugh at that. “Ha! Wouldn’t you like to know.” Felix decided Sylvain’s unflattering, wheezy belly-laugh was ten times better than the shallow manufactured chuckle._

_Together they finished off the shitty junk food that remained on the plates while Annette and Mercedes still looked mildly horrified by the exchange they had just witnessed._

_They walked back toward the dorms as a group of four. Mercedes and Sylvain broke off in front of their building. “This is our stop,” Mercedes said. “It was nice to see you again, Felix. And lovely to meet you, Annie! Maybe we can hang out again sometime.”_

_“Sure!” said Annette. “You have my number.” (She did? Since when?)_

_“Yeah, this was fun!” Sylvain agreed. “It was nice meeting you, Annette. And Felix…” A weird look passed between them—mutual respect? “I’m sure I’ll see you around… Fe.”_

_Felix let him get away with the unearned nickname. Just this once._

_A few months later, after winter break, Felix received a text on a Friday night. It was from Ingrid, asking if he had time to talk._

_“Not right now,” he texted back. “Ashe and I are bothering Sylvain in his room at the moment.” (They were, in fact, tearing apart Sylvain’s room searching for his diary. Sylvain had mentioned keeping a journal and claimed they would never find it, so of course Ashe and Felix had taken it as a challenge—Ashe because he liked a scavenger hunt, and Felix because he still needed proof that Sylvain was literate.)_

_Ingrid texted him back, “Don’t be sorry! That’s excellent,” which was a statement Felix could make neither heads nor tails of. “Can you do brunch tomorrow, then? I want to talk to you about something.”_

_How cryptic and anxiety-provoking. It was enough for Felix to feel his curiosity and cortisol levels spike, and he couldn’t really say no to that._

_He met Ingrid outside her dorm the next morning so they could walk there together, bundled up against the February weather. As they were crossing the campus, Felix spotted Sylvain’s distinctive red hair bobbing along the other side of the quad._

_Hmm, where could he be going? The library? He was coming from the wrong direction, though—his dorm was on the other side of campus. And wait, where was his coat? Was Sylvain…wearing the same clothes as he’d been wearing yesterday? But that would mean he’d probably—_

_Bonk. Felix walked face-first into a pole—or more specifically, the lower of the two horizontal metal bars attached to said pole. The offending metal bars were currently stretching taut a banner that read, “Springing into Spring! Annual Haiku Contest, Submit Yours Today.”_

_Here’s one: Fuck you, poetry. Why hang the banner that low? To kill tall people?_

_Ingrid grabbed Felix’s arm protectively as his head banged into it, and then laughed her ass off as he rubbed his stinging forehead._

_When they were finally eating their brunch, Ingrid said, “So. Felix. I’ve invited you to this brunch to discuss possibilities for our living situations for next year.”_

_“How business-like of you. Go ahead.”_

_“Well, I’ve done some thinking and come up with a plan,” Ingrid said. The clever gleam in her eyes made Felix nervous. “So get this: What if you, me, Dimitri and Sylvain all signed up for gender-neutral housing as a group of four?”_

_“Really?”_

_“Yes, really. Why? Do you have a problem with that?”_

_“Not the gender-neutral housing part, no,” he said quickly. He struggled for a moment to put his roiling thoughts into words._

_“And just to be clear,” Ingrid added, preempting any mockery, “this is not me dissing girls. Girls are excellent, so excellent that they’re fine on their own and don’t need a mom friend. Whereas you three…could definitely benefit from my functional feminine influence.”_

_“I mean, I won’t deny that, but god, I am so sorry. I hope you don’t feel like you have to be my mother.”_

_Ingrid waved dismissively. “Nah, with you I’m more of a protective older sister. But don’t worry, I enjoy my role as the designated baby-wrangler. Like, I was happy to let Dedue take over with Dimitri, but since he and Ashe are going to be roommates next year...”_

_“So you and I would be roommates and share the bathroom with Sylvain and Dimitri?” Felix checked._

_Ingrid’s smile shifted strangely. “Unfortunately for you, you’re the one I’m least worried about. So no. My idiot-sitting talents are needed elsewhere. The reason I wanted to ask you about this first was to give you a chance to pick your poison.”_

_He took a moment to digest this. “Okay, I understand why you would want to live with me and the boar, since you’ve known us forever, but…why Sylvain?”_

_Ingrid smiled wistfully. “Doesn’t it just feel like we’ve known him forever, too?”_

_And it was like she had put into words something about Sylvain that Felix had felt ever since they’d first started bickering at a Halloween party._

_“And besides,” Ingrid continued, “would you even be willing to sleep in a room with Dimitri?”_

_“Would you even be willing to sleep in a room with Sylvain?” he shot back._

_She shrugged, letting the unspoken “I dunno, but you would,” hang in the air between them. “Okay, would you rather live with Dimitri, then? Because I am willing to switch, if you want.”_

_He ground his teeth. “Why do you insist on befriending idiot men who can’t survive on their own?”_

_She laughed. “I could ask you the same question! Or maybe a better question would be why you’re such good friends with idiot men you claim to want to punch in the face—and not once have you successfully punched either of them in the face, might I add.”_

_“Okay, yeah,” he admitted. “I guess I walked into that one.”_

_“Just like that pole earlier.”_

_“Shut up.”_

_And that settled it._

_So later that spring, Ingrid proposed the idea to Dimitri as they hung out in his room, and he seemed unreasonably happy just to be asked. “It would honor me to be your roommate,” he said, looking earnestly into Ingrid’s eyes. Felix pretended to retch at his formality behind his back._

_“The only person left to ask now is Sylvain,” Ingrid said._

_“Can we pretend that I don’t already know?” Felix asked._

_“Why?”_

_“Well…otherwise he would know you asked him last.”_

_So they made sure to catch Sylvain on the quad between classes. Felix trailed behind Ingrid as she broached the topic. “We could sign up for gender-neutral housing next year—you, me, Felix, and Dimitri.”_

_Sylvain said, “You can have Dimitri, then,” at the same time as Felix said, “I’m not sleeping in a room with the boar.”_

_Ingrid grinned. “Fine by me.” Translation: all going according to plan. She bustled off to her next class._

_Sylvain shot Felix a smile. “Heh. I bet we could have fun together, you and I.” He said it so sincerely that Felix honestly couldn’t tell whether he was flirting or not. “We could even start now! What are you doing for the rest of the day?”_

_“I don’t know. Nothing. Homework.” Felix realized as soon as he spoke that that was the wrong answer._

_“Great!” Sylvain said. “The health center has free STI testing until 6pm. You won’t mind coming with me, right?”_

_“There is literally no reason why I should go with you.”_

_Sylvain predictably smirked. “Haha. Virgin.” Felix scowled at him. “And also, uh, yes, there are reasons! Like, fighting social stigma, or knowing your status, or just spending quality time with your good pal Sylvain! And that’s just off the top of my head.”_

_“Can’t you ask someone else?” Felix groused._

_“I already asked Dimitri, and he said that the institution of medicine has betrayed him too many times before…? No clue what that means, but I decided not to push it. Come on, Felix! It takes, like, 5 seconds, or whatever it says on the poster. And y’know…since we’re going to be roommates next year…”_

_Felix went beet-red. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”_

_Sylvain’s grin turned sly. “I just meant we should start spending more time together. Start building a little rapport. Why, what were you thinking?”_

_Felix ignored him all the way to the student health center._

_Sylvain used the “future roommates” excuse to rope him into a lot of favors for the rest of the year, so much so that at the end of freshman year, Felix decided to just… take a bite of the bullet, or whatever the saying was. Make some bullet lemonade? He offered to help Sylvain move out rather than waiting to be asked._

_Since Felix’s family actually lived in the area, he was one of the few students who had the luxury of moving out gradually. He started taking things home on the metro a few weeks before he had to move out. When it came time to officially leave, all he had to do was make sure the mini-fridge was empty and pack up his sheets and towels._

_(Through each step of the move-out, he kept track of all the “lasts”: The last time he would ever put fresh sheets on this mattress. The last time he would ever use this laundry machine, or cook in this kitchen in the basement. The mental countdown ticked in his head in time with him thinking, “The next time I work at a desk, or sleep in a bed, or brush my teeth at the sink, I'll be home.”)_

_In contrast, Sylvain had applied to move out late. He had been approved and gotten to stay an extra week. And as his “future roommate”, Felix returned to campus to help when it was Sylvain’s final day to move out._

_(“Next year I’ll find an internship or something,” Sylvain sighed regretfully. “So I won’t have to go home—I mean, to my parents’ house.”)_

_They had to play a bit of tetris with Sylvain’s belongings to get them all to fit in the boxes, but then the boxes were packed and sealed and waiting to be put into storage for the summer. Felix stayed with him until there was nothing left to be done._

_As they finally parted, Sylvain’s face showed more melancholy that Felix had ever seen on him before. "I'll be so lonely without you this summer,” Sylvain said with a weak smile. It made Felix hurt in a very good, valued way._

_(And as Felix entered the metro to ride back to his parents’ house, a new clock started ticking in his head. A steady rhythm of thinking, “The next time I’m in this part of the city, we’ll be roommates. The next time I shower on this campus, it will be in our shower, and the next time I fall asleep in this zip code, it will be in the bed next to his. And the next time I go to his room to pester him, I’ll be home.”)_

_And even with Ingrid and Dimitri around, Felix was lonely that summer._

It was a long time before Felix fell asleep that night, his throat aching with something like regret.

He dreamed again. For the third night in a row.

_In this dream, he was in the cab of a pick-up truck with Annette, driving through flat desert wasteland to some remote location with boxes of supplies to deliver. Felix had never seen Mad Max: Fury Road, but he had seen the trailer and it seemed to involve the same landscape._

_Annette was driving. Recklessly as always._

_“What’s the rush?” he asked as she tailgated the car in front of them._

_She took a momentary break from making up new lyrics to the song on the radio to say, “If we don’t get there in time, we’ll miss the shipment!”_

_All the other cars slowly turned off of the road, leaving them driving alone into the nothingness, allowing Annette to speed to her heart’s content. There were no speed cameras this far out._

_The road dead-ended in a parking lot in the middle of nowhere. Annette parked, and they got out and hoisted huge boxes from the bed of the truck. “Over there,” she said with a jerk of her chin. A set of train-tracks ran between them and the flat, sandy horizon._

_“Wait!” he shouted after her as she bounded impossibly over the tracks in one leap. Lightly, despite the box in her arms. She landed in a puff of reddish dust—she made it over just in time._

_The train swept through right behind her, carving off the space between them with a streaming, flashing wall of metal and a vicious gust of wind. When the last screeching car of the train sped by, Felix stood prepared to scold her as soon as the dust settled. But the figure that stood on the other side with its back turned to him was—_

_“Glenn.”_

_He looked the way Felix remembered him best—young, wearing his soccer jersey from high school—like he hadn’t looked for a decade. But he was drenched in sepia tone, like an old-timey photograph, making it seem like he should’ve been wearing a bowler hat and smoking a pipe. The heat-haze made his outline shimmer like a mirage._

_At the sound of his name, Glenn turned around and said in surprise, “Oh! Hello!” The cloud of red dust around him was suspended weightlessly in the air, swirling in gentle eddies as he moved through it, taking a step closer to the train-tracks. He smiled at Felix, charming and carefree like he hadn’t been for a decade._

_But Felix knew how dream logic worked. With a sinking feeling in his chest, he said, “I can’t touch you,” though he desperately wanted to._

_He remembered feeling the prickly stubble on Glenn’s cheek when they had last hugged goodbye. He remembered the overwhelming sense of solidarity that came from knowing that this person, right here, was the only other person in the world who understood his childhood—the only other person who shared half his memories, who knew how it had felt to grow up in their home._

_There was nothing Felix wouldn’t give to reach back in time and not let go of him._

_Glenn’s roguish smile faltered into a wistful one. “Ah. That’s okay,” he said, looking so solid and warm, like he hadn’t been dead for three years._

_“I still miss you,” Felix said, fighting the overwhelming sense that he was running out of time to say all the things he needed to._

_“Why?” Glenn asked. “I’m right here, aren’t I?” He extended a hand to Felix, reaching out over the railroad tracks. “I wouldn’t leave you behind.”_

_With a lump of emotion knotting his throat, Felix raised his arm to reach for Glenn’s hand._

_And a train hurtled between them, cutting off the brief window into another world._

_When the train finally passed, there was Annette, with the box in her arms and the dust settling around her. “Felix! You coming?” she asked, laughing over her shoulder at him._

_Felix suddenly noticed that his box had left his arms and was resting at his feet. So he lifted it again, and stepped into the middle of the tracks—_

And woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for alcohol and referenced past abuse.


	9. the ingredients

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday, May 6th. Sylvain teaches Felix a new skill and reflects on the pictures he does and doesn't have of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter, but please check each chapter for content warnings (or if you know me in real life)!

Even without the structure of classes, Sylvain always woke up as soon as sunlight started leaking through the blinds.

This morning when he opened his eyes, he lay on his side for a moment and tried not to feel mushy over waking up next to Felix. It was like being roommates again, except in the same bed. Bedmates? Gah. He pulled himself out of bed to begin the day.

Felix meandered into the kitchen about an hour later, already looking like he couldn’t put up with any more bullshit today. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the cookie sheet on the stove.

“You made croissants?” Felix’s voice went strangely high-pitched, though it definitely still had a gravelly quality to it.

“Oh! Felix! Temperature check!” Sylvain bounded forward to place a hand against Felix’s head from the other side of the kitchen island. Felix, to his credit, submitted to the check, brown eyes looking coolly into Sylvain’s face as he waited for a verdict.

And those eyes must have made Sylvain forget what he was doing, because Sylvain’s stomach suddenly fluttered with warmth. He nearly moved his hand to cup Felix’s cheek before remembering he was supposed to be detecting a fever in Felix, not inducing one in himself. God, the rituals really _were_ intricate, weren’t they?

Drawing his hand back, Sylvain shakily said, “Yep, seems normal. You’re good to go.”

“So again, I ask: You made fucking croissants?”

“Oh, not from scratch!” Sylvain clarified. “They were frozen. I just put them out on a cookie sheet to rise while you were tucking yourself into bed last night. So around 8pm, if I do recall.”

Felix grumbled something that sounded like, “How convenient.” (Though it might have been, “Wow, convenient!” which Sylvain found much funnier.)

As Felix helped himself to one of the croissants, Sylvain casually dropped in, “You know…speaking of cookie sheets…”

Felix gave a muffled little groan around his mouthful of pastry, which sounded upsettingly cute to Sylvain’s ears. And by cute, he meant hot. “Now?” Felix asked morosely.

“When do you have class today?”

“Not until noon, I guess…”

“That’ll work! We’ll start as soon as you’re done eating.” Sylvain joined Felix at the table a moment later with a second cup of coffee for himself and a first cup of tea for Felix. “Apricot or raspberry jam?” Sylvain indicated the two jars on the table.

“Is that an either/or question?”

“No, it’s just an offer. You don’t have to, but I do recommend it.”

“Fine.” Felix pulled the apricot jam closer to him and spread some on his croissant. He seemed to be trying to look miserable as he ate it, but he was enjoying the buttery flakiness too obviously for sulking to be an effective tactic.

Especially when he helped himself to a second one. And a third one. Sylvain felt so satisfied that it was even better than eating them himself.

Once the kitchen was cleaned up from breakfast, Sylvain got right down to business. “So. I hear you’ve had some traumatic experiences with flour. I’m here to help you heal via some carefully guided exposure therapy. A little CBT, if you will.”

Felix looked alarmed. “Cock and ball torture?”

“No, I meant for it to be ‘cognitive baking therapy’,” Sylvain chuckled. “But I like the way you’re thinking.”

Felix made a disgusted noise. “Get on with it, then.”

Sylvain had already plotted exactly how to best use this opportunity, and he wasted no time executing his plan. He pulled out all the bowls and measuring cups that they could possibly need, placing them in front of Felix. He then took a seat on the other side of the kitchen island, reversing their positions from earlier.

“Since when do you even know how to bake?” Felix wondered aloud.

“Since Mercedes and Ashe taught me. It’s really not that hard if you can just follow instructions.” Sylvain opened a recipe on his phone. It was a good thing Felix couldn’t hear Sylvain’s inner demon cackling _mwahaha_ in anticipation.

“Okay. First thing to do is measure out two thirds of a cup of sugar,” Sylvain dictated from the screen.

“You’re not gonna help?” Felix asked despairingly.

“Oh, I am helping! By reading you the recipe! So then when it’s done, you’ll be able to say you did all the work with your own two hands.”

Felix did not look as enthused by the prospect as Sylvain was. But Felix begrudgingly checked, “You said two thirds of a cup?”

Excellent. “Yep. And add it to the big bowl.”

“Don’t we need to preheat the oven or something?"

“Uh, not yet! Anyway. Next, add two cups of warm water. You can probably use the water from the tea kettle.” Felix did as instructed. “And then open that packet of yeast and add it.”

Felix looked curiously at the packet. “Cookies use yeast?”

“In baking, either yeast or baking soda is always used as leavening agent,” Sylvain said, because it was technically true. “Or wait, is it baking powder? I always get them mixed up. I think they’re both leavening agents though…”

In response to Felix’s blank stare, he added, “A leavening agent? The make-it-rise thingy. The put-the-little-tiny-air-bubbles-in powder. Anyway, just add the yeast.”

Again, Felix complied. Wow, this was just delightful to witness. “Give it a little stir so everything dissolves.”

Felix did, wearing a cute little frown of concentration as he looked into the bowl. “Okay, now what?”

“Now we wait for five or so minutes,” Sylvain said, placing his phone down.

“What? What are we supposed to do for five minutes?”

Sylvain couldn’t help a little grin. Felix was asking all the wrong questions and accepting all the wrong answers. “We just chill out. Enjoy a quiet moment together.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a quiet moment in your presence,” Felix remarked. Instead of sitting down, he stubbornly leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms to show his impatience.

“I’m sure that you have!”

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t,” Felix told him. “In fact, I’m not sure if it’s physically possible for you to shut your mouth for a whole minute.”

“Oh yeah? Watch.” Sylvain pursed his lips shut. And started counting to sixty.

Felix watched him with interest, his mouth slowly spreading into a smile. He chuckled a little bit. Sylvain shot him a glare, but that only served to further amuse him.

Not being able to quip back at him with words was rather annoying. Sylvain bit his lip and made a face he hoped was an appropriate level of distressed. Thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two… God, this was harder than he’d thought.

Then Felix actually burst into laughter. Sylvain had to exhale sharply through his nose to avoid opening his mouth to laugh out loud with him. “Oh, you should see the look on your face,” Felix said, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

 _Meanie,_ Sylvain wanted to say, but that would mean opening his mouth. He tried to frown at Felix, though it didn’t feel successful, based on his inability to get his mouth to turn down. His mouth refused to cooperate and just scrunched up into a funny little line. Oh no, that was just a pout, wasn’t it? Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight…

Felix grinned at him, his eyebrows raised high in either impressed surprise or sadistic delight. God, Sylvain really wanted to…do _something_ to him. Kiss him, maybe. Or punch him, or wrestle him to the ground and then—yeah, still kiss him, actually. Sylvain’s face hurt from the effort of try to suppress an irrepressible smile.

“Sixty!” he finally blurted. “That was sixty seconds. So _ha_!”

“Oh, you think that was a victory for you?” Felix laughed. “Incredible. Well done. I think that was the best minute we’ve ever spent together.”

“I can do it again if you’d like,” Sylvain offered without thinking. Because Felix’s smile was just so cute.

“Oh, please do,” Felix nodded encouragingly.

“Wait, never mind. I lied. That was a one time deal.”

Felix sighed deeply, still smiling. “Ah. I knew it was too good to be true.”

“Don’t sigh because its over. Smile because it happened.”

“Thanks, I’ll try to remember that.”

“So, has the stuff in the bowl started to bubble yet?”

Felix pushed himself off the counter to peek into the bowl again. “Not really…”

“Okay, give it a few more minutes then.”

Felix leaned back against the counter again and then looked up to see Sylvain still grinning at him. “What?” Felix demanded. “Why are you making that face?”

 _Because for some reason I can’t stop._ “‘That face’ is called a smile, Felix.”

“I know that,” Felix snapped. “Stop doing it.”

“But doesn’t baking just… bring joy to your heart?”

“No,” Felix said, crossing his arms again.

“You’ll be smiling when it brings carbs to your mouth, at least.”

“Hmm. We’ll see about that,” Felix said, his tone skeptical. But he didn’t quite manage to hide the upturned corners of his lips either.

Sylvain managed to stay quiet for another minute with very little effort by just smiling at Felix in a way he hoped was mysterious, or at least obnoxious. “Okay,” Sylvain said when he finally turned his attention back to the recipe, “the next thing you’ll do once the time is up is add a teaspoon and a half of salt and a fourth of a cup of oil.”

Felix opened the cabinet to get the ingredients and asked, “Olive oil?”

“No, silly, canola oil.” Truly, what did Felix think they were making? Focaccia?

“Oh.” Felix’s cheeks seemed a little pink when he reappeared from the behind the cabinet door. He added the ingredients once the mixture in the bowl was sufficiently foamy.

“Then you measure out about six cups of flour,” Sylvain directed.

Felix retrieved the cup measure and eyed it in surprise. “That seems like a lot of flour…”

“That’s how much the recipe calls for,” Sylvain said with a practiced careless shrug.

“Alright then…” Felix put an adorable amount of effort into measuring out each cup, gently leveling the surface of the flour before dumping it into a bowl. He must not have heard the word “about,” meaning “roughly,” or “approximately.”

“Okay, next you’re going to add the flour, like, a cup at a time and mix it in.”

While Felix began stirring in the first cup of flour, Sylvain stood and circled around behind him to watch his progress over his shoulder. When Felix added the next cup of flour, Sylvain added, “You can start kneading it when you can’t use the spoon anymore.”

Felix jumped and looked over his shoulder. “ _Kneading_ it? How fucking dense is it supposed to get?”

“Enough backseat driving! Just do the recipe!” Sylvain said, barely managing to contain his evil laughter.

“I’m not the backseat driver here,” Felix protested, “I’m the one actually driving!” But he set the spoon down and nervously rolled up his sleeves, reaching his hands into the bowl.

“Well, don’t question the navigator, then. I’m the one who knows where we’re going.”

Felix scowled and gestured as if he were considering some kind of violence, but the threat was largely impotent thanks to his hands being breaded in a sticky layer of flour.

Haha, breaded. _Mwahahaha_.

“Why are you watching over my shoulder?” Felix grumbled as he kneaded more flour into the dough.

“So I can let you know when it’s the right consistency.” It was getting there, slowly becoming springy and stretchy instead of gooey. Damn, Felix really had no idea where cookies came from, huh? Sylvain hadn’t expected this to go on for so long.

After Felix had added and mashed in the sixth cup of flour, Sylvain said, “Okay, yep, looks sexy.”

“Sexy?” Felix asked.

“Like, it’s the right consistency. Which is very sexy of it.”

Felix gave the dough a doubtful glance. “What now?”

Sylvain sprinkled flour on the countertop and dumped the dough out of the bowl. “Now you knead it for about 9 minutes.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Sylvain said as seriously as he could manage. “I’ll time it.” He set the timer on his phone and said, in his best cooking show host voice, “Begin!”

Felix groaned and put his hands back onto the dough, giving it a strange little massage.

Suppressing his laughter, Sylvain asked, “May I?” and pulled up his sleeves. Felix stepped aside to let him demonstrate proper kneading technique. “You see, the trick is… hmm… what is the trick…?”

“Don’t give advice if you’re just gonna make it up!”

“I’m just trying to think how to describe it! It’s like… shove it, but lovingly? And then fold it over, twist it around a bit, and do it again. So basically just pretend it’s me,” Sylvain said with a wink. Felix punched him in the arm, hard. “Ow! What was that for?”

“I do _not_ punch you lovingly.”

“I said ‘shove,’ actually, but thank you for punching me and proving my point.” Sylvain rubbed his arm to shake off the punch. As soon as he moved his hand away, Felix punched him again in the same spot for emphasis. “Jeez, why are you so affectionate all of a sudden?”

“This is not affection,” Felix said, punching him in a different spot.

“Hey, stop touching me with those hands!”

A snort of laughter escaped Felix. “Ha, those are words I never thought I would hear from Sylvain Jose Gautier.”

“Because you have, like, flour paste all over them!” Sylvain spluttered in response. “Gah, now I’ll have to change my shirt.” He now had two spots with quickly drying yeasty flour crusting them.

“Why? Who’s gonna see? Or care?” Felix asked.

“…Fair point, I guess.”

Felix shoved him aside and took over the kneading. He copied the motion Sylvain had demonstrated quite well, pushing the heels of his hands down into the dough, efficiently folding it and pulling it back.

“Lookin’ good,” Sylvain said as returned to his seat. “Very sexy.”

“You’re really into dough, huh?” Felix’s brows furrowed together as he concentrated on the movement.

“Mmm, you could interpret it that way,” Sylvain said.

He had far less trouble staying silent this time, because the steady pattern of Felix roughly pushing and pulling the dough had him thoroughly entranced. And wow, he had nice forearms.

Had Sylvain really just thought that? What was he, some kind of fainting Victorian suitor, feeling overwhelmed at just the sight of a graceful bare neck, or an angular bare wrist? Yes, actually. That summed up his feelings pretty well.

But also, why were Felix’s arms so strong? Had they always been so subtly muscular? It seemed impossible that Sylvain had never noticed before, but it was absolutely impossible to ignore now as Felix kneaded the dough with brisk efficiency. Sylvain tried not to stare too conspicuously as Felix’s hands sunk into the firmness of the dough, as Felix leaned his weight behind it, as his long fingers flexed and fanned out, moving back and forth above the countertop…

Oh no. Sylvain was a little weak for those hands. It was a good thing he was already sitting down, or he might have gone weak in the knees just looking at them. There was just something about Felix’s skillful strength, the way the tendons and veins on the back of his hands were faintly visible, raised in bas-relief as they shifted under his skin… Oh no, oh no, oh no. Sylvain might have been blushing a bit. And oh no, was he—

Why had he thought this was a good idea, again? Luckily, Felix was too focused on the dough to notice Sylvain fidgeting and shifting in his seat, crossing his legs. Sylvain tried in vain to direct his mind back to the dough, but it was less sexy by comparison.

When the timer on Sylvain’s phone chimed, he decided that if Felix hadn’t figured his nefarious plot out by now, he probably never would.

So maybe Sylvain could mess with him a little more. “Okay, great. Next step is to pet the dough gently, like petting a small child on the head.”

Felix gave the blob of dough a few gentle pets. And then snapped out it and said, “Why the fuck am I doing this?”

Sylvain couldn’t resist a grin. “Maybe you like following instructions?”

“I definitely do not,” Felix huffed. “So what’s—” Felix cut himself off.

“What’s the next instruction, you mean?” It was a good thing the kitchen island was between them, or Felix definitely would have punched him again. “You’re actually off the hook for now,” Sylvain said as he rose from his seat and set about greasing a bowl for the dough to rise in. “We have to let it sit for like an hour.”

Felix blinked, and then made a face. “Wait, what? When do the chocolate chips and stuff go in?”

Time for the big reveal.

“Oh, Felix,” Sylvain said patiently, knowing it would annoy Felix like nothing else. “We haven’t started the cookies yet. This,” he said, pointing, “is bread.”

Felix stared at him, dumbstruck. “You’re—you’re such a bastard. Fuck you. Goddammit, Sylvain, you—ugh. God, you’re awful, I hate you, and I am going to make you regret this.”

“I said I would teach you to bake, didn’t I?” Sylvain said, grinning from ear to ear. “And we need the bread if you want more avocado toast…”

Felix whipped his head sharply to one side, causing Sylvain to fear he was truly suffering an aneurysm before he realized Felix was checking the time. Felix looked back at him and angrily said, “I have class in twenty minutes. So you’re on your own for” —he flailed an arm toward the oven— “whatever else bread-making entails. Goodbye.”

“You’ll still help me make cookies later, right?” Sylvain called out to him as he slipped around the kitchen island. Felix flipped him off and kept walking. “I’ll take that as a yes!”

“You always do,” Felix called back before shutting the bedroom door.

While Felix was in class, Sylvain got a text from Ingrid.

_so how are things going with our favorite finicky eater?_

_still as fussy as ever_

_actually, i made a quiche yesterday_

_AND tried to make him do a saltwater rinse for his cold_

_AND today i made those frozen croissant thingies for breakfast_

_and he’s just been physically assaulting me as per usual._

_sooooooo ungrateful_

_well that tracks_

_in the wild, the genus Felix is oft observed showing affection through violence_

_lmao_

_i love that the one time you use a capital letter it’s for a genus name_

_im dedicated to accuracy in all things, but particularly science_

_oh but speaking of felix’s propensity for violence!!_

She sent a meme she had quickly edited to say “my ex **ROOMMATE** still misses me...... BUT HIS AIM IS GETTING BETTER!”

_hahahaha…_

_yeah._

_i really do fear he will be the death of me though_

_one way or another_

_i mean, probably_

_in fact, he HAS straight-up told me he’ll kill me_

_on multiple occasions_

_yeah i think thats another one of his love languages_

_good luck out there bruh_

_although…if u ask me…_

_i didn’t, but go ahead_

_he really shouldnt kill you_

_uh, thanks?_

_in fact, i think he oughta consider himself lucky_

_why_

_uh, bc hes shacking up with a himbo like u? duh_

_a what?_

_yeah!_

_huh???_

_exactly!_

_wait what are we talking about_

_oh also by the way_

_this time I have a favor to ask of YOU!_

_(caps on the letter i for emphasis, not grammar)_

_yeah sure, go for it_

_you know how annettes bday is coming up?_

_hell yeah i do!!!_

_i’m ready to virtually partay_

_great_

_well i am asking u to send pictures of our friend group_

_like from the past year or two, if you have any_

_im making a scrapbook and will mail it to her_

_omg :’)_

_ingrid do u realize what a good friend u are_

_yes. thank you in advance for your contribution_

Happy to help her with such a noble goal, Sylvain opened his camera roll and quickly swiped backwards through time. Every picture of Annette made him miss her deeply—particularly for her sense of humor. Annette had a way of turning the world into material for the ongoing comedy skit that she made her life.

First Sylvain dug up a silly picture of Annette holding a large stone over Ingrid’s head. Ingrid had mentioned earlier that day that she couldn’t name a single person in the British royal family, so Annette had wanted to make a joke about her living under a rock.

One picture showed Mercedes and Annette holding hands in front of a Christmas decoration that said _You had me at Ho Ho Ho_ , except that she and Mercedes each stood in front of the sign so that only _You had me at Ho_ was visible.

One showed Annette, Mercedes, and Dimitri all wearing hairnets as the four of them volunteered together at a soup kitchen. Annette had written “I’m at Soup” on her name tag.

One showed Dedue giving Annette a piggyback ride on Halloween. She had demanded to be carried this way because she had dressed up as Piglet from Winnie the Pooh.

One showed Annette and Ashe posing in front of a banner at the club fair that Sylvain knew had said _Welcome, Transfer Students!_ but Annette and Ashe had leaned their heads together to strategically cover up the last three letters of _Transfer_ so that it said _Welcome, Trans Students!_

And then, shockingly fast, Sylvain had reached the beginning of junior year. And the one person conspicuously absent from all of his photos was Felix. Sylvain continued back through his camera roll to sort through the pictures from sophomore year. Embarrassingly, it wasn’t even the first time that he had done this.

To be fair, he had taken more pictures in sophomore year than any year before. He hadn’t had so much fun or done so many things that he wanted to remember in a single year ever before. Or since. (And he had also discovered Huji Cam that year. That might have had an effect.)

The memories scrolled by: There was a picture from getting ice cream cones with Claude, Hilda, Marianne, Felix and Ingrid. There were some pictures from the museum visit that Ignatz had dragged Ashe, Felix, and Sylvain along on. Sylvain remembered being surprised by how much of the art he liked, and then being doubly surprised that he “wasn’t allowed” to be taking pictures of it and would need to “turn off his phone” or “leave the building”.

And then there was a long stream of meticulously posed pictures from a photoshoot under the cherry blossoms with Annette, Felix, Ignatz, Linhardt, Dorothea, and Dorothea’s girlfriend Edelgard. Well, they were _mostly_ posed. Felix was camera-shy and had to be chased down and ambushed, so his pictures were all blurry with motion or grainy from being too zoomed-in, like he was some kind of elusive cherry blossom cryptid.

Blurry pictures of Felix hiding behind trees made up about 30% of the pictures, and that was even with 50% of the pictures being Dorothea posing with Edelgard among the pink blossoms. Dorothea had made Sylvain keep taking pictures until one finally met her exacting standards.

Sylvain sent some of the group pictures along to Ingrid, though he wasn’t sure who she counted as being in their circle of friends. He kept swiping backwards and slid to a selfie he had taken just before winter break of sophomore year. He had taken it from a high angle, with just a quarter of his face in one corner while he captured the rest of the scene behind him. Sylvain _adored_ this picture.

In the background of the picture was the ice rink itself, where Edelgard was already skating gracefully, having laced up her skates with effortless efficiency and coaxed Dorothea onto the ice along with her. Dorothea’s agoraphobic friend Bernadetta stood quaking in her skates at the edge of the rink, trying to psych herself up to follow them.

And Felix sat on a bench just behind Sylvain while Annette knelt at his feet helping him tie the laces of his ice skates, both of them unaware Sylvain was taking a picture. Sylvain couldn’t help but smile at the memory.

Though Felix’s lithe build and cat-like personality implied he would be graceful with two blades strapped to his body, ice-skating revealed that none of that actually translated into universally good balance or fast reflexes. The reality was quite the opposite; Felix spent the two-hour rental period frustratedly shuffling along the edge of the rink while Sylvain, also not skilled at skating, laughed his ass off as he also pulled himself along the handrail. Even better, Annette had accidentally terrorized Felix the whole time by giving him little pushes to “help him go faster!”

Sylvain had learned that Felix had an absolutely adorable helpless face that appeared whenever Sylvain marooned him (read: skated four or more feet away from him). Felix had quickly masked it with cold indifference when he realized Sylvain was looking back for him, but Sylvain was just delighted he had gotten to see it.

There were a million things like that about Felix. Things that were at once endearing and hilarious—like how he might seem like the kind of person to claim he hated music, or to only listen to angsty early 2000’s pop-punk, but Sylvain knew for a fact that his favorite artist was Owl City. (Admittedly, Felix did also listen to angsty pop-punk on occasion; it was how Sylvain had known if Felix was having a shitty day when they were roommates. He’d always forced Felix to get dinner with him if he heard Felix hum more than one Fall Out Boy song in the shower.)

It was strange now, how those same school days that had seemed so mundane, so bogged down with homework and classes had become some of Sylvain’s fondest memories because of the few hours spent with friends.

He hadn’t known at the time that he would look back and try to remember how it had felt to be there. He had just…been there, happy and carefree without even noticing it. And there was no single happiest memory from that year. What was truly remarkable was the accumulation of more days that were happy than days that were not.

Sylvain often thought about how recalling memories inevitably changed them, and he imagined that these memories must have been a little warped and faded from all the times he came back to them. He pictured them being softly worn on the edges, like the pages of a well-loved book.

It made them better, in a way. He liked thinking that the memories had come to resemble the bad pictures that he had left of them, hastily snapped on a shitty phone camera because he had been too busy living life to get a proper photo of it. Time turned the blurriness and lens flare into a meaningful piece of the picture. (Or maybe that was just Huji Cam again.)

Sylvain finished sending Ingrid the pictures and then went back into the kitchen. He took a picture of the mess of flour on the counter before working on the bread again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this chapter seems a bit short, it's because it is actually part one of a two part chapter that got too long and had to be split into two. It happens! ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	10. sweetness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday, May 6th. Sylvain learns something new about Ingrid, makes good on a promise, and is overwhelmed by small happinesses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight content warning in the endnotes!

Sylvain decided to deliver Felix lunch in his room as peace offering.

Felix was sitting at the desk working on his laptop when Sylvain offered him the plate. Felix just gave him a cool look and accepted it without a word. “You missed seeing me punch the bread dough,” Sylvain said.

“I’m devastated,” Felix replied in complete apathy. “Was that another bullshit step of the recipe you made up?”

“No.” Sylvain hovered behind Felix, not wanting to leave. “You really do have to punch it.”

“You can go now,” Felix dismissed him like an unnecessarily clingy servant. Sylvain still lingered. Annoyed, Felix said, “I’m not going to ask you why you have to punch it, no matter how long you stay.”

“Then you’ll never really understand bread-making.”

“My disappointment is unfathomable.” Felix shooed him away.

But the bribe seemed to work, since Felix did help make the cookies later after Sylvain had finished baking the bread. And despite Felix’s claims to the contrary, he did seem to find baking a little fun.

The more difficult part was convincing Felix to try one.

“Oh come on, Felix! Just one cookie? They’re fresh out of the oven!” Sylvain wheedled him insistently. “Please? All you have to lose is your chains—and your trim figure, but I doubt that’s going anywhere fast. C’mon, just one bite? I’ll finish it if you don’t like it! Pleeeeease? After all the time it took to—”

“Fine!” Felix finally snapped. “One bite.” He snatched up one cookie from the cooling rack and took a bite out of it like he was ripping off the head of a small animal with his teeth.

“So?” Sylvain prompted eagerly. “How is it? How is it?”

“Too sweet,” said Felix. “But otherwise acceptable.”

Sylvain almost wanted to cheer when Felix ate the rest of the cookie.

_thanks for the pics :)_

_no problem!_

_how are things going at ur place_

_i just taught felix to make cookies. crazy, right?_

_lmao he had never made cookies??_

_no. in fact, i tricked him into also making bread_

_wow. ladies be baking i guess_

_and now more than ever i dream of kissing him under the moonlight_

_hahaha_

_lol i cant believe u managed to find a crush whos as useless as you_

_albeit in equal and opposite ways_

_hey, he’s not useless!_

_also wait, I’M not useless >:(_

_im so glad you two found each other_

_its like, miraculous_

_hey, pls don’t make fun of my idiotic love life!_

_i can’t help that he lives rent-free in my heart_

_and ur house_

_and my house_

_but fr, be kind to me_

_i can’t tease you back when u don’t even have a love life for me to mock!_

_you have an unfair advantage:(_

_hey, who says i dont have a love life?_

_….you have a love life?!?_

_and didn’t tell your bff sylvain????_

_god, it’s like i don’t even matter to you anymore_

_just bc YOU shout about ur private life from the rooftops doesnt mean I have to!_

_(the letter i is capitalized for emphasis, not grammar)_

_okay well!!! what’s your love life then???_

_i might be… texting dorothea..._

_WHAT_

_how do i convey the spit-take i just did thru text_

_*spit-take*_

_yes thank you._

_*spit-take*_

_YOU’RE dorothea’s prophesied gf number 3???!!!?_

_i might also have kissed marianne before we all moved out…_

_*spit-take 2.0*_

_INGRID I STG!!!_

_and you didn’t tell me for more than a month???_

_omg omg horse girls in love <3 _

_lmao ferdinand is not a part of this tho_

_i wasn’t counting ferdinand_

_and isn’t he a horse BOY???_

_no no, hes a horse girl_

_horsegirlhood is gender neutral_

_wait a sec omg omg omg_

_dorothea…marianne…._

_it’s all coming together…_

_what is?_

_shhhh i’m connecting the dots_

_and if i’m right, that means…omg i’m gonna lose it_

_if what???_

_if you’re the missing link!!_

_the chosen one, at long last!_

_the one who connects the dorothea and hilda polycules!!!_

_if thats true, oh good lord i’m going to SCREAM_

_oh yeah. better start screaming then :P_

_askdkflgl WOW i am floored_

_so edelgard and claude are both in your extended family now??_

_damn girl, thats one powerful polycule_

_hmm im not sure thats how it works but ok_

_that’s like a fucking dynasty tho_

_unstoppable girl gang_

_unstoppable girl gang plus claude_

_girl gang includes claude already_

_lol he would be honored_

_well dont worry, ill invite you to visit our glorious gay commune_

_thanks_

_oh speaking of which…_

_i can’t believe you let me think you were my token straight friend!_

_all this time! its been like 3 years!_

_i thought you thought i was asexual?_

_ok yeah,,,,_

_but you know what i mean_

_not gay._

_hahahaha_

_well the jury is in, and i have been found gay_

_welcome to the club_

_haha_

_arent u bi tho?_

_well…._

_thats like the super elite club!_

_the vip lounge of the gay club_

_well……….._

_you, hilda, claude, dorothea, ashe, annette…_

_what a distinguished group_

_tbh i’m not so sure i’m bi anymore…..._

_dude you are so bi. im telling you this as a friend_

_what??? how would YOU know???_

_youre a gemini_

_that_

_that feels biphobic._

_or geminiphobic._

_or both_

_sylvain trust me, i am pre-med. i know latin and stuff_

_i know the meaning of the word bisexual_

_bi means two, sexual means sex. you can have sex twice_

_…ingrid i am not joking around_

_unfortunately neither am i_

_i am going to have to arrest u for loverly crimes_

_on the basis of violating your lifetime sex allowance_

_ingrid. seriously_

_i am truly questioning my sexuality_

_ok sorry sorry shifting back to serious mode_

_where is this coming from??? arent u hella gay for felix?_

_…… yes._

_i am._

_i was also pretty gay for ashe for a hot minute last semester_

_oh wait_

_you mean_

_oh ok i see your point now_

_yeah…_

_so the part youre not sure about is…girls_

_yeah…_

_hmmm idk what to say buddy_

_cant relate to not loving girls_

_but i can relate to being gay_

_so ¯\\_(_ ツ _)_/¯_

_i guess only u can really know what you feel in your heart?_

_actually that’s oddly empowering, thank you_

_oh anytime!_

_i didnt realize that would be helpful but im glad it is_

_it is!_

_also this might seem out of the blue but_

_i just wanted you to know i miss you_

_aww sylvain! i miss you too_

_ok that’s it, end sappiness_

_nooooo give me more sappiness!_

_ok one more: i’m really glad to have you as a friend_

_right back at you <3_

_oh i just remembered!! this reminded me of you!_

She sent a meme. The left side showed an uno card that read “tell someone how you feel or draw 25”, and the right side showed a person holding half the deck of uno cards.

_why must you target me like this_

_bc i like your feelings when you share them_

_arrrgh stop being sweet_

_i refuse :)_

_but wait. we were talking about sexualities_

_the real question is: do we know anything about felix yet??_

_you mean, does felix fraldarius is gay?_

_yeah lol_

_ain’t that the question_

_so?? still no signs? no clues?_

_nope, still waiting on that_

_all we know for sure is that he was raised catholic_

_which explains the long wait¯\\_(_ ツ _)_/¯_

_hahahaha thats accurate_

_and i say that as a fellow repressed catholic_

_yeah that’s why you’re both erotophobic_

_except in felix’s case, the suspense is kinda killing me_

_omg i just realized something so funny_

_you know how kissing felix caused you to have a sexual awakening?_

_…yes._

_tragically, i cannot forget_

_meanwhile for me, kissing felix in high school caused…_

_idk, a reverse sexual awakening???_

_sexual…deactivation?_

_a sexual hibernation, if you will_

_at least it was mutual_

_lmaooooo_

_kissing felix really makes people discover things huh?_

_he did help me discover that im not into boys_

_list of lips that turn you gay_

_like some fucked up princess and the frog scenario_

_omg hes turning the frogs gay!!!_

_HES TURNING THE FROGS GAY_

_jinx_

_jinx_

_lmao its less that he made me gay than like_

_dispelled my illusions of heterosexuality_

_lol_

_bc lets be honest, if i had to pick a boy…._

_felix is the goodest boy_

_well. i’d have to agree with you there_

_wait backtrack again for a min: what about dimitri?_

_wh_

_what about him???_

_dimitri is NOT the goodest boy_

_he can be your token straight friend!_

_hes straight as far as we know, right?_

_yeah i know he’s straight_

_but i’m not sure i consider him a friend_

_wowwwww_

_he’s more of a mild nuisance. a barnacle perhaps_

_haha ok keep telling yourself that_

_and how sure are we of his hetero-ness, really?_

_hilda said she tried flirting with him and he didnt even notice_

_ok maybe hes just stupid_

_but either way. not gay_

_not yet ;)_

_sldjgjsjfk_

_please dont sleep with literally all of my friends_

_it makes me feel left out_

_lmao i was suggesting he kiss felix_

_kiss kiss fall in gay_

_hahahah_

_also i hope u know that even tho i’m acting like an asshole_

_i am actually so very happy for u_

_haha i know that_

_you deserve all the love <3_

_thanks sylvain :)_

_and also damn, u picked some real hotties ;)_

_dont talk about them that way :(_

_unliked_

_uncommented_

_unsubscribed_

_what’s wrong with calling hot women hot?!_

_i’m just stating the facts_

_see this is why u could never succeed as a heterosexual_

_excuse u, i had a lot of success as a heterosexual._

_just ask dorothea_

_ok goodbye sylvain_

_lmao_

_oh ingrid? one last thing?_

_yeah?_

_let me know if you need tips on eating pussy ;)_

_this is the last straw._

_dorothea said i’m pretty good at it_

_im friend-divorcing you._

_hahahaha_

_see you in court, motherfucker_

_i’ve never fucked your mother_

_and you never will. goodbye_

That evening, Felix spotted Lysithea tending to her plants on the balcony again and dragged Sylvain out to eat dinner on the balcony. Sylvain did have a tiny little table and two chairs on his balcony, so he couldn’t exactly deny the request.

“Lysithea!” Felix called to her.

“Hello again, Felix.” Lysithea looked only at Felix as she answered, ignoring Sylvain. She must have been holding the grudge against him until the cookies were in firmly her hands.

Sylvain decided now was as good a time as any. “Hey Lysithea, we made cookies today.”

“Oh?” Her whole demeanor brightened with eagerness. “Excellent! I’ve already determined the best way for you to deliver them to me.”

Sylvain blinked. “O-okay? How?” He had been thinking he could just… go downstairs, exit his building, leave the cookies in the lobby of her building… was that not a pandemic-approved plan somehow?

“Give me a second,” Lysithea said. She opened her sliding door and disappeared inside her apartment for a moment before returning with a basket which held…two unopened plastic water bottles and a roll of purple ribbon?

“We’re going to make a pulley system,” she declared in her bossy voice. “Like a miniature ski lift.”

“We are?” Sylvain asked.

“Yes. Do you have masking tape? Or duct tape?” She tapped her foot impatiently.

“Uh, sure, I can go get some.” Once he’d darted inside and retrieved a roll of it, Sylvain returned and asked, “So how are we doing this, exactly?” Felix was standing at the balcony railing, apparently willing to help.

Lysithea cut a very long piece of ribbon—at least six yards of it, if Sylvain had to eyeball it. She tied two large knots near the center of it, about an inch apart. Then she threaded the ribbon through the handle of a little basket she had brought with her.

As she picked up the water bottles and tied the ribbon around the neck of one bottle just below the cap, she explained, “I’m tying each end of this ribbon to a water bottle and tossing them over. Please do try and catch them.”

That was the only warning they got before she pulled back her arm and chucked one of the bottles straight at Sylvain’s head, ribbon streaming behind it. He caught it in surprise, flimsy plastic crunching slightly as it hit his hand.

She tossed the other water bottle underhand at Felix, passing it between the vertical metal slats of her balcony railing. Sylvain felt it was a bit unfair that Felix didn’t also get a water bottle rocketing at his head, but realized he probably shouldn’t wish ill upon the ill.

“There,” Lysithea said. “Now the ribbon is around the top bar of my railing, see? Please fix yours so that the water bottle that went under my railing also goes under your railing.” Felix did as she said and passed it from one hand to the other around the horizontal metal bar.

“Now untie the ribbon from around that water bottle and throw it back to me,” Lysithea instructed. “And don’t drop that end of the ribbon.” Sylvain still did not quite understand how this would work, but he sure wasn’t going to say anything. Felix held on to his end of the ribbon with one hand and tossed back the water bottle, now sans ribbon attachment, with the other.

Lysithea deftly caught it, and then whipped out a utility knife from who-knows-where and stabbed into the water bottle. The water gushed out of the bottle as she sawed off the bottom of it.

“Bro, what?” Sylvain said with a start, now bewildered and disturbed.

“Just watch,” she said, rolling her eyes. She cut through the top end of the bottle as well, leaving it only a plastic tube that narrowed at the center like a hourglass. And then she cut the plastic tube down the middle as well.

“Untie the other end of the ribbon and do the same with your bottle,” Lysithea said, lifting the knife.

Sylvain flinched. “Please don’t throw it!” The world seemed to grind to a halt as he waited for something that never came.

Felix gently lay a hand on his arm, which was when Sylvain realized he had hurriedly thrown it up in front of his face. He slowly lowered it, shoulders still tensed. “I—sorry, I…I have my own already. Knife, I mean. So no need.”

“I wasn’t going to throw it,” Lysithea assured him. “Sorry.”

“I’ll get it,” Felix offered. He disappeared inside for a moment. Heart still pounding, Sylvain opened the water bottle and quickly gulped down the water, because seeing it burst out of the plastic had been a bit too visceral to repeat.

Felix returned with a knife from the kitchen and quietly repeated Lysithea’s procedure on their water bottle. “Good,” said Lysithea. “Now do what I do.”

She took her plastic tube and pried it open, slipping it around the metal handrail before letting the plastic snap back into its tube shape. She then wrapped her own tape around the bottle several times until she had completely covered the slit down the middle. Then she pulled her hand over the surface of it, demonstrating how it spun freely around the railing like a bead on a string.

“Ohhh,” Sylvain said. “I get it now.”

“You’re just now realizing?” Felix said in disbelief.

“Hey, you made a whole-ass loaf of bread thinking it was cookie dough,” Sylvain retorted.

“I’m not even going to acknowledge that,” said Lysithea with a smirk. “Except to ask, did Felix make the cookies?”

“It was a team effort,” Sylvain said.

“But it was an agreement between you and me, not Felix,” Lysithea reminded him.

“Yeah, and I don’t even like cookies!” Felix complained.

Sylvain placated them both by saying, “Listen, Felix learned to make cookies, and you get to eat them. And I get forgiven, so everyone goes home happy.”

“Everyone is already home,” Lysithea pointed out.

“Alright, alright, enough nit-picking! Do you want the cookies or not?”

Once their plastic tube was clamped around the handrail and taped up again, Lysithea adjusted the ribbon so that the handle of her basket rested between the two knots she had tied. “Okay. Now Felix, pull your end in a bit more. And Sylvain, hold yours so it stays pretty taut.”

She guided the ribbon with her hands so that it lay across the narrowest part of the tube, the middle. The basket lifted was lifted off of ground as Felix pulled his end of the ribbon taut. “Wow, maybe you should be an engineer!” Sylvain said.

Lysithea gave a single dismissive snort of laughter. “Oh please. This is the simplest form of engineering. Even a kindergartener could do this! I bet even the two of you could come up with it eventually if you put your two braincells together. Anyway, the last thing to do is to tie your two ends of the ribbon together.”

Sylvain no longer needed the instruction, since he had finally understood what the ultimate goal was, but he dutifully reached out for Felix’s end of the ribbon to bring them together.

At the same moment as Felix reached out for his end of the ribbon. All four of their hands collided in some way or another, and Sylvain suddenly became aware how sweaty his palms were and instinctively loosened his grip, muttering, “Oh, fuck,” as his end of the ribbon started to slip through his hand.

Felix quickly caught it by wrapping his hand over Sylvain’s and squeezing his hand tight around the ribbon again. “I’ve got it covered,” Felix said. He moved his hand further down the ribbon, off of Sylvain’s, and brought the other end of the ribbon to cross over it.

Sylvain pulled his hand away as soon as he dared, heart pounding. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. What the fuck? They were just making a pulley. _O gay heart,_ he mentally begged, _still thyself! Prithee, before the brave sir doth note thy quickening!_

Felix finished tying the ribbon, pulling it tight and the reeling in the lower length of ribbon with the basket suspended from it by pulling it hand over hand toward their balcony.

“Hey, it works!” Sylvain said for the sake of something to say. Hopefully it would help disguise the thumping in his chest.

“Of course it does,” Lysithea said, proudly puffing up her chest. “And now you can give me the cookies directly.”

Sylvain brought out the tupperware full of cookies and deposited it in the basket. As the basket hung in the air between their two buildings, Sylvain was strangely fearful that a strong wind would suddenly send it tumbling twelve stories down to the alleyway below.

Thankfully, Felix sent it back to Lysithea by pulling on the top ribbon gently enough that the basket did not sway too hard in any direction.

Lysithea eagerly plucked the container out of the basket when it reached her. “Okay fine, we’re friends now. I have no idea why you made cookies if you don’t even like them, but that’s none of my business.”

“Yeah, don’t shoot a gift horse in the mouth,” agreed Felix.

In response to Sylvain’s appreciative look and Lysithea’s intrigued one, Felix mumbled, “Or—you know. Whatever the saying is. Don’t shoot the gift horse that feeds you?”

“I think that’s like, three idioms in one,” said Sylvain.

“No no, I like yours better,” Lysithea said enthusiastically. She took a seat on the lone chair on her balcony and popped open the container, immediately digging into the cookies. “I would also never shoot a horse that makes me cookies.”

That…was also not how the saying went. Sylvain decided not to comment on it.

He and Felix returned to their seats to finish eating as well. Their dinner had cooled by then, but Sylvain thought it was worth it. It had all been pretty fun, actually.

So what if the world was burning and the future looked empty and he couldn’t even stand to look at the news? He was here on this balcony, with an old friend and a new one, eating dinner and sharing homemade cookies. The sun was just beginning to set behind the blocky city skyline, and small happiness was still possible.

“Hey look,” Sylvain said, pointing into the dip-dyed sky. “The moon is almost full!”

“Yes, tomorrow night is the flower moon,” said Lysithea. “And it is considered a super moon as well.”

Felix made a face of exaggerated surprise and said, “Oh really? What’s so ‘super’ about it?”

Lysithea looked at him quizzically. “Um, that it appears larger than usual in the sky?”

“Oh. Yeah. I know. I was, um, joking,” Felix said. He was clearly embarrassed that Lysithea hadn’t been able to tell. “I’m not actually that dumb.”

“Ah. I see,” said Lysithea. “It was difficult to know for certain since you called my field of study ‘astrology’.”

“I still don’t see what the difference is.”

Lysithea smirked. “Yeah, you’ve made that abundantly clear, bread boy.”

Felix blushed. And god, it was such a cute look on him. Felix blushed, and oh, life was amazing.

Sylvain crawled into bed that night happy.

“That was kinda fun,” he couldn’t resist saying as they both lay in bed, motionless. Well, he was motionless. Felix was playing some game on his phone.

“Yeah, it was,” Felix agreed.

“And… sorry. That you kinda had to cover for me earlier.”

“You don’t ever need to apologize for that.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Felix glanced away from his phone screen for a split second, meeting Sylvain’s eyes, and—

Felix’s phone slipped out of his hands and landed with a thud on his chest. “Shit. Fuck. Oh my god. Forget you saw that.”

“Never,” Sylvain said, his heart pounding.

Felix grumbled and turned to play his game laying on his side facing away from Sylvain, but Sylvain caught the smile on his face before he did.

“Well, g’night!” Sylvain said. He tried to keep it light, even as his chest ached with feeling.

“Goodnight, Sylvain,” Felix responded. His tone sounded much heavier. Warmer.

Sylvain turned away and stared at his phone, because there was no other way to avoid wrapping Felix in his arms. He opened his notes.

_May 6, 2020 at 10:39 PM_

_i think i’m going mad with wanting you. are we just running circles around each other? or is it my mind just being stupid that makes me think i have a chance with you? mixed signals. dizzying. i don’t know which way to turn._

_everything you say, i transcribe, and store, and keep reading and rereading in my head. because i’m in the bad habit of making meaning out of everything._

_i know i’m always a little bit in love with all my friends, but this is something different. i think i love you for real. no, i do, i must. i don’t think i could make this feeling up._

_i want to tuck your hair behind your ear. it drives me crazy, makes me feel frantic and foolish and heedless to risk. i’m brazenly typing this right next to you and half hoping you’ll ask me what i’m writing so i’ll have an excuse to tell you. if you just asked me, i wouldn’t be able to lie to you. you’re so close to me. i could tuck your hair behind your ear._

_i want to know your taste in music so well that i’ll tell you about a song, and you’ll say you already know all the words to it, and i’ll realize it sounded so sweet and familiar to me because i once heard you hum it in the shower._

_i want to make the bed every morning just so we can freshly mess it up together every night. (well, i’ll make it in the early afternoon, i suppose. so that you can sleep in.) i want to sleep with your body curled up into mine, your knees tucked into the backs of my knees, your nose tucked into the back of my neck, even though it’s a bit ticklish._

_i want to tuck you in like a child, and touch your hair and read you bedtime stories, or just make them up. i can picture you yawning so cutely. and bitching about all the plot-holes, because you’re always paying attention. you’ll force me to fix them, and it’ll end up a better story because of it, and we’ll start anew, every night. we’ll entertain each other endlessly._

_i want to make you hot food in the winter, so that when you come home and it’s already dark outside, you’ll step over the threshold and follow your nose to the stove and say, “wow, how did you know i was craving this?” and i’ll say, “i just had a feeling,” because i can feel you around me all the time, i can feel your heart beating in my ribcage like it’s my own._

_these stupid, desperate, bullshit fantasies keep gushing out of me, and i can’t stop them, because i have to put them somewhere. because if i keep it all inside, i think i’ll burst from the sheer force of the desire inside me._

_and sometimes you say things that make me think you’re feeling the same thing._

_but i’m not going to be the first to say something. do i always need to be the one to say something? it doesn’t seem fair. i want you to know i love you without having to expose my wiring, my veins, my knotty, hurting innards. i don’t want to leave myself at your mercy._

_or do i? maybe i do want you to reach into me, sink your hands into my abdominal cavity. twist your fingers in my gut._

_but i fear it. i can’t bring myself to tell you and risk losing this closeness, driving you away again. i can’t i can’t i can’t. i know it’s irrational, but it’s beyond my control. i physically can’t. i don’t know what else i can do, except pour my feelings into my phone screen before i pass out. and even with all the blue light, i know that i’ll fall asleep before you do. how unfair of me. i’m sorry._

_and i love you, you know. i do. how unfair of me. i’m sorry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implied past abuse (again), specifically involving knives.
> 
> Also, I think I will slightly slow my posting schedule from almost every day to every three days, just because I think my current pace is a little insane. Hopefully three days is bearable for all of us, myself included! I'm just having a little trouble pacing myself because I'm so excited to get to the later chapters that I forget about the ones I still have to work on.


	11. transmission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday, May 6th - Thursday, May 7th. Felix remembers what it was like to be roommates, and then wakes up and doesn't remember what he dreamed about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight content warnings in the endnotes! And if anyone who knows me in real life is still reading, you MUST check the endnotes. Thanks.

_Sophomore year. September, 2018. Their first week as roommates._

_“Hey Felix,” Sylvain said as he got back on Thursday evening, “wanna come to a small gathering tomorrow night?”_

_“Small gathering?”_

_“Yeah, it’s kind of an…extended family reunion with my suitemates from last year. Since now Ashe, Ignatz, Dedue, and Raphael are living together.”_

_“You’re allowed to say party,” Felix said. “I won’t decide not to go based solely on the word ‘party’.”_

_“Oh, I know! It’s just that it really is a small gathering this time. It’s to celebrate surviving syllabus week!”_

_“Was that ever in question? Did you think the syllabi would kill you?”_

_“No,” Sylvain laughed. “So, I’ll meet you there?”_

_They went to the party separately, both going directly there from separate places—class for Sylvain, work for Felix._

_Sure enough, it really was a small gathering. The noise level was actually tolerable when Felix arrived and Dedue opened the door to let him in—and most miraculously, Felix actually recognized most of the faces in the room._

_“Felix!” Ignatz greeted him. “I didn’t realize you were coming!”_

_“Oh, sorry, Sylvain said I could come…”_

_“Of course you can!” said Ignatz as he led Felix into their common room._

_“I told Sylvain to invite you,” Ashe said from where he sat on a couch in their suite’s little sitting area. He scooted over to make room for Felix. “Make yourself at home!”_

_“So, we’re celebrating the end of syllabus week?’” Felix said, standing awkwardly because he was too nervous to sit._

_“Huh? Oh yeah, I guess so!” said Ashe. “Though it’s more of a housewarming party. Dedue said he wanted to celebrate having our own kitchen by making something special to break it in.”_

_“Oh, right. Meanwhile I’m just celebrating having a bathroom shared with less than twenty people.” Felix hadn’t really meant it to be funny, but it was nice when Ignatz and Ashe laughed._

_Then Felix heard a voice behind him say, “Hey there, stranger.” He turned and saw Sylvain had just been let in._

_“Wow,” Felix said, crossing his arms coldly. “Fancy meeting you here.”_

_“It’s been ages, huh?” Sylvain said with a sparkle in his eye._

_“Not long enough, if you ask me. I would’ve been fine never seeing your ugly mug around here again.”_

_Confused, Ashe piped up, “I thought you two were roommates now?”_

_Sylvain’s eyes widened, pretending to have just come to the realization. “Oh yeahhhh! We are, aren’t we?”_

_“He has the memory of a goldfish,” Felix informed Ashe. When Ashe just looked more confused, Felix clarified, “That was a joke.”_

_“Yeah, we’re just doing a bit.”_

_“Ohhhh, I see,” Ashe said with a nervous little chuckle. “Haha, sorry. I couldn’t honestly tell.”_

_“I get it,” Sylvain said. “Felix is always deadpan, so it’s hard to know one way or the other.”_

_“And Sylvain is always an airhead, so that doesn’t help either,” Felix added, trying hard to maintain his deadpan reputation._

_Perhaps wanting to change the subject to something he could actually participate in, Ashe asked, “So, um, where is Dimitri? He’s your suitemate now, right? Dedue said he was inviting him, but I see he didn’t come with either of you…”_

_“Oh, yeah, the boar couldn’t come,” Felix said. “He’s out collecting rat bones tonight.”_

_Ashe blinked in confusion. “Is...is this another bit?”_

_“No, I’m serious. He saw a dead rat on the street today and said he was going to go back and get it. To dissolve the body in acid or something. He says collecting skeletons reminds him of his family.”_

_“I, um…well, okay,” stammered Ashe. “That’s…hmm… that’s really something.”_

_“He has a real deer skull on his desk, just to give you some context,” Felix added._

_Ashe looked thoroughly concerned._

_Sylvain took pity on the poor boy and changed the topic. “So Ashe, thanks for inviting us! What a lovely kitchen you have here! And my, doesn’t Dedue look so good in it, too?”_

_Ashe lit up, missing Sylvain’s innuendo entirely. “Yes! Dedue really wanted to have people over to try his cooking, I think! He decided to make something vegetarian since Linhardt is a vegetarian, but you’ll have to come back some other time to try his gumbo. He makes it really well, with the shrimp and fancy sausage and everything!”_

_Sylvain nodded sagely. “Ah, the fancy sausage! That used to be my stage name, you know.”_

_Ashe made an extremely funny face. “What—what kind of stage was this, exactly?”_

_“Oh, you know—elevated, with a pole in the middle. Lit by strobe lights. Covered in one dollar bills. You know the type.”_

_“You’re joking, right?” Ashe turned to Felix for confirmation. “He’s joking, right?”_

_Felix shrugged. “Fuck if I know. He just likes saying random shit all the time.”_

_Suddenly Hilda approached them from behind, holding hands with two people and dragging them along with her. “Felix! Sylvain! Long time no see!” she said as they turned to face her. “You guys already know my girlfriend, right?”_

_“Marianne, right?” Felix asked. She was easily recognizable. Unfortunately she still looked like the walking embodiment of depression._

_“It’s nice to see you again,” Marianne said in her meek, breathy voice._

_“Oh, congrats!” Sylvain said. “I didn’t realize you two were dating!”_

_“Yep!” Hilda said cheerfully. “And allow me to introduce my boyfriend, Khalid.”_

_“Wow, Hilda, way to hog all the hot people,” said Sylvain._

_The (admittedly very handsome) black guy next to Hilda gave them a wink and a friendly smile. “I’m flattered,” he said. “You can call me Claude, though. And I really do go by Claude, it’s just that Hilda found out Khalid is my legal name today and is having fun telling everyone she knows.”_

_“Wait, boyfriend?” Felix asked, thinking he had somehow misunderstood._

_Hilda must have anticipated some confusion, because she patiently explained, “Yeah, boyfriend! Not just, like, friend who’s a boy. Though he is that too, of course! We were bros before we became hoes.” She stood on her tiptoes to give him an affectionate peck on the cheek._

_Claude chuckled as he bent down slightly to help Hilda reach his face. “I think we were already hoes, just separately.”_

_“Well now we’re hoes together,” Hilda said, nuzzling his face with her nose._

_Sylvain watched them in amusement, then slung an arm around Felix’s neck and said, “Right. Well, I’m Sylvain, and this is MY boyfriend, Felix.”_

_Felix’s brain didn’t work fast enough for him to do anything but gape wordlessly as Hilda, clearly on the verge of laughing in Sylvain’s face, incredulously asked, “Boyfriend?”_

_“My friend who’s a boy,” Sylvain amended. He gave Felix a little squeeze with the elbow hooked around his neck._

_Felix rolled his eyes disgustedly, shoving Sylvain off of him. “We’re seriously just roommates,” he informed Hilda._

_“Yeah, that’s what Marianne tells her parents too,” Hilda said, grinning slyly._

_Marianne blushed and ducked her head to shield her eyes behind her bangs. Felix blushed simultaneously. In secondhand embarrassment, on Marianne’s behalf, because she was so intensely shy. Yeah._

_“Cuuute!” Hilda squealed at his blush, somehow making the word three syllables long. “I call dibs on being best man at your guys’ wedding.”_

_“You’ll have to fight Ingrid for that privilege,” Sylvain said._

_“Where is that lovely lady, by the way?”_

_“She’s at some dean’s list reception thing,” Sylvain sighed. “Tragically. She RSVP’d yes because the email said light refreshments would be served, and then it was too late to back out.”_

_“Ah, what a shame,” said Hilda. “Anyway, how is life treating you guys this year?”_

_“Great!” said Sylvain, trying again to put an arm around Felix._

_Felix dodged it. “Ah, you know,” he said, and then tried to quickly think of something to say. “I had hoped there would be less idiots in the upper-level classes, but no such luck. Idiots seem to follow me wherever I go.”_

_Sylvain pouted. “Was that a jab at me?”_

_“No, but I love that you took it as one.”_

_Hilda giggled. “Well, we can chat later, I’m just making the rounds doing introductions. Next up is Raphael.”_

_“I do know Raphael already,” Marianne said._

_“So do I,” said Claude._

_“Great! Onwards to Ignatz, then.” Hilda dragged her significant others away as fast as they had come._

_Felix shot Sylvain an amused look, and then jumped as he suddenly noticed two more people had materialized in front of them: Linhardt, along with a tall brunette who, from the way she dressed and styled her hair, clearly knew she was hot._

_“Dorothea,” Linhardt said to her, “this is Felix. And now you’ve met.”_

_Dorothea gave him a winsome smile. “Oh, so you’re the roommate from last year! Lin’s mentioned you a couple times. Nice to finally meet you!”_

_“Indeed,” Linhardt said with a yawn. Without a word of farewell, Linhardt turned to Ashe and said, “Ashe, could I borrow your bed or something for an hour or so? I’ve had quite a long day for the past four hours.”_

_“Um, sure,” Ashe said with a little laugh. “Right this way.”_

_As they were left with Dorothea, Felix noticed she was wearing a necklace with a charm that looked like two crossed swords. “Do you fence?” he asked._

_“What?” Dorothea followed his gaze and glanced down at her prominently displayed cleavage. “Oh, yeah! You too?”_

_“I used to.”_

_“Foil or epee?”_

_“I’ve done both. And sabre.”_

_Dorothea laughed delightedly. “Me too! Why did you stop? Are you doing other sports now?”_

_“Absolutely not,” Felix deadpanned. “All other sports are...pointless.”_

_Dorothea grinned. “Oh damn. This dude fucks.”_

_Sylvain grinned too and said, “I get what you mean, but no, he really doesn’t.”_

_“I really don’t,” Felix agreed placidly. He wanted Dorothea to know he was truly more interested in her fencing than her tits._

_“I do, though!” Sylvain followed up. “Just FYI. In case you were wondering.”_

_Felix’s mouth quirked into a shrewd smile. “Yeah, if you’re looking for a fuckboy, you found one. His name is Sylvain, by the way,” he added, realizing that Linhardt had, hilariously, ignored Sylvain entirely._

_“Pleasure to meet you,” Sylvain said, his voice dripping unnecessary suaveness._

_Dorothea chuckled and looked back and forth between the two of them. “Wow,” she said, looking bemused but enthralled. “This is the wackiest wingmanning strategy that I’ve ever seen.”_

_Felix’s grin turned gleeful. “Oh, that wasn’t wingmanning. That was a warning. He really is a fuckboy.”_

_“Aww, Felix! You’re ruining my chances!” Sylvain whined._

_“No, you do a good enough job of that by yourself. I just thought I’d hasten the process along. Let people know upfront what they’re getting into.”_

_“Get off my dick!” Sylvain said, giving him a good-natured shove._

_“You wish I was on your dick,” Felix said, shoving him back harder._

_“Absolutely scintillating conversation,” Dorothea said, arching one immaculate eyebrow. “Okay, well, nice to meet you both. Let me know if you start performing as a comedy duo or something, because I would totally come watch.”_

_“Oh, I know some jokes right now!” Sylvain said in a last ditch attempt to keep her attention._

_“Bro, relax, she’s not interested.”_

_“Definitely not in dating you,” Dorothea agreed, “but we could hang out sometime. Bye, boys.” She left to talk to Hilda and Marianne with a pretty little wave over her shoulder._

_Then a song Felix didn’t know came on, and Sylvain immediately started dancing. “Oh god,” Felix said, looking away. “I’m embarrassed to be associated with you.”_

_Meanwhile Claude drifted back over and said, “Hey, looks like white boy can dance!” He joined in, hip-bumping Sylvain to the beat._

_“Thanks! You seem to have a sense of rhythm yourself!” Sylvain grinned back._

_And Felix stayed firmly in place, feeling awkward because he didn’t fit on either side of the equation. It was such a small thing, but it made him feel like an alien. Or some kind of freaky, alien-human hybrid. Like Spock. He had always felt a strong affinity to Spock, ever since being introduced to Star Trek at age 19. (He was still 19. But that did not affect how fiercely and biracially he identified with Spock.)_

_Then he spotted Dedue in the kitchen area and gravitated toward him. “Hey,” Felix said, hesitant to disrupt him. It felt odd to be initiating the conversation, but they were both people of relatively few words, so..._

_“Hello, Felix,” Dedue said in that even, calm voice of his._

_“What are you making?”_

_“Samosas. Raphael and Ashe helped me make the filling earlier. And I just rolled out the dough, so all that remains is to fill them.”_

_“Do you…need any help?” Felix offered, not knowing what else to say._

_“Please don’t feel obligated. I have it all covered. But if you would really like to help, I can share a task or two with you.”_

_Felix nodded and pushed up his sleeves. Dedue picked up a flat, seed-speckled semi-circle of dough. “Here. If you could just fold each of these into a cone, like this” —he demonstrated— “and then put this much filling in and seal it like this, I’ll start frying them.”_

_Felix glanced at the stove. “You fry them in a wok?”_

_“A kadhai,” Dedue said with a small smile. “A different name for the same basic thing.” That did help Felix feel less like an alien._

_“So,” Felix said as he got to work, “you don’t mind being in charge of the food for this party?”_

_“Not at all. I think it is one of life’s greatest joys to make food for the people you love.”_

_Felix swallowed hard. “Love?”_

_“Yes, of course,” Dedue said. “Aren’t the people we invite into our lives the ones we love? Love does not always have to be something so big and daunting for it to count, I think. Like food.”_

_“I’m...not sure I understand,” said Felix._

_“Food, or love?” Dedue asked._

_“Both?” Felix shifted uncomfortably. “Or like, how they’re connected?”_

_“Well, they’re already in the fabric of our daily lives,” said Dedue, “whether we are intentional about it or not. We all need a bare minimum to sustain us.” He scooped the first golden samosas out of the oil. “But if you choose to put a bit of effort in, you can make something really special. Something that doesn’t just sustain your life, but adds to it. Or maybe you just take the time to appreciate what you already have, and those same small things become that much more meaningful.”_

_“I see,” Felix said, though he wasn’t sure he did._

_Dedue shot him a small smile. “In any event… I appreciate your help. I just wanted to make something worth savoring.” He nodded his head toward the tray of samosas Felix was preparing._

_Or maybe he was nodding toward Ignatz, Ashe, and Marianne on the couch discussing what time they should wake up Linhardt. Or Hilda and Raphael, laughing boisterously at some joke. Or Claude and Sylvain and Dorothea, having a spirited dance-off that seemed likely to cause injuries if it continued._

_Felix understood._

_When Dedue finally brought the tray of freshly made samosas out to the little table by the couch, Felix followed with bowls of mint and tamarind chutney, moving aside the potted plants on the table to make room._

_“Woohoo! Food is ready!” Hilda cheered, though she’d had nothing to do with it._

_Raphael whooped, “Those look awesome! Thanks, Dedue!” and immediately picked up one in each hand._

_“It was a team effort,” Dedue said humbly. “A lot of people helped make them.”_

_Even more people helped eat them. The delicious smell even caused Linhardt to spontaneously wake up and join them as they flocked around the table._

_They all sat around the table on the couch or the floor, until all Felix could see was overlapping hands reaching over each other for the last samosas. Felix had thought they’d made plenty, but apparently he’d underestimated everyone’s appetite, including his own._

_Once all the samosas had been devoured, Claude was the first to break the contented silence. “Damn, those were tasty,” he said, patting his stomach appreciatively. “I would love to get your recipe, Dedue.”_

_“I would be happy to send it to you,” Dedue said. “It might require you to get some unusual spices, though.”_

_“Great!” Claude exclaimed. “Y’know, I may not look it, but I looooove exotic spices,” he said, wrapping a casual arm around Hilda. Felix didn’t feel weird about laughing at that one._

_(“And for real,” Claude added as an afterthought, “my mom IS from Iran.”)_

_Afterwards, Felix and Sylvain went back to their room and changed into pajamas._

_“Hey, Felix. I have a conundrum,” Sylvain said suddenly._

_“Yes?”_

_“Do we have any snacks?”_

_A note of amusement crept into Felix’s voice. “Seriously? You just never get your fill, huh?”_

_“Hey, I can’t help that Raphael ate ten samosas by himself!”_

_“Okay, fair point…” Felix had to admit, he could probably eat again too. “Do you wanna make popcorn?”_

_“No, that means going to the kitchen to cook…”_

_“Cook? It’s three ingredients. And two of them are butter and salt.”_

_Sylvain sighed. “We should really invest in the microwavable variety.”_

_“Aww, but your popcorn maker is so fun!” Felix said patronizingly._

_Just then both of their phones buzzed. It was Annette, texting Ashe, Dedue, and the two of them._

_Annette: i just got out of lab!! is the party still happening?_

_Ashe: unfortunately everyone just left! you can still come over and hang out, but we’re out of samosas…_

_Annette: ok new plan. who wants to go to the diner?_

_Sylvain: YES!!!! i could so go for mozz sticks rn!_

_Ashe: sure! dedue and i are in._

_Felix: friendly reminder that the metro is going to close soon…_

_Annette: friendly reminder that i have a car AND a license. time to make that bitch of a parking spot i pay for worth it._

_Annette pulled up outside their dorm in her decades-old Subaru Forester before they’d even had a chance to change back into real clothes, but they just said fuck it and got in anyway—Felix in his plain pajama shirt and pants, Sylvain in a t-shirt and his ridiculous Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup pajama shorts._

_Felix got in the front seat next to Annette specifically so he could gloat and watch in the mirror as Sylvain sulked in the backseat._

_“Oh, nice,” Felix said as he noticed the manual transmission. “I never learned to drive stick.”_

_“Relatable,” Annette muttered._

_“What?”_

_“Never mind!” She turned the key in the ignition._

_“Can I turn on the radio?” Felix asked. Knowing the way Annette drove, he needed a distraction so as to not fear for his life._

_“Sure!” said Annette. Felix fiddled with the scan button, which was quite uncooperative about sticking to the strongest frequencies._

_Even when he landed on a station, the car seemed to be creating its own mash-up. “Oh, bizarre. I think we’re, like, phasing between two different stations.”_

_“Relatable,” Annette said again._

_“What?”_

_“Nothing!”_

_“It’s more like three stations, if you count the static,” Sylvain piped up from the back, trying to stay relevant._

_“Why the hell would I count the static?” Felix asked._

_“I don’t know! Maybe it’s a radio station that plays white noise?”_

_Felix turned up the volume of the static to drown Sylvain out. “Yeah. So relaxing,” he added, savoring Sylvain’s full range of petulant facial expressions. Felix adjusted the fader to the backseat just to be extra petty._

_Annette’s car could fit two people up front and three in the back—which was fine when she stopped to pick up Dedue and Ashe, but then they stopped at the library to pick up Mercedes, who had been studying late. And then they really faced a conundrum._

_“I’ll sit on someone’s lap,” Sylvain offered generously._

_“Um, whose?” Annette giggled._

_“I dunno. Any takers? Felix?”_

_“No,” Felix said point-blank._

_“You can sit on my lap, if you prefer.”_

_“Also no.”_

_“Okay... Annette?”_

_“But I’m driving…?”_

_“Okay, Ashe? Dedue?”_

_Ashe flushed. “I, um—”_

_“No one wants to sit on your lap, Sylvain,” Felix summarized._

_“And it may not be wise, considering how low the ceiling is and how the seat belts are positioned,” Dedue weighed in, ever the voice of reason._

_“Okay, fine! I’ll sit in the trunk!” Sylvain threw open the door and made a show of plodding toward the trunk. “Farewell, cruel world! If I am to be banished to the shadow realm, at least I’m going there on my own two feet.”_

_Annette snickered. “Is ‘the shadow realm’…my trunk?”_

_“No, it is the lonesomeness of a car ride spent sitting on the floor in the trunk while my beloved friends are in the front together, all—”_

_“Quit your whining,” Felix said, growing impatient and wanting to get there sometime before 3am. “I’ll sit in the trunk with you.”_

_When Mercedes finally emerged and took shotgun, Annette turned the car back on. The music/static/music abruptly blared back to life, now extra loud because Felix had turned the fader to the back. The static was especially deafening as they drove through a radio dead-zone._

_“Annette, can you please fix the radio?” Felix called over the noise to the front._

_“Sorry!” Annette mashed the tuning buttons, causing the radio to spit more static interspersed with random snippets of noise like a spirit box._

_“Or just turn it off?” Felix covered his ears._

_“Sorry!” she apologized again, blindly pressing buttons. “Oh no, I still have all my presets from summer break!” Then she had the miraculous realization that the volume dial was right next to the tuning buttons. Felix’s ears were saved. “Whoopsie! I always forget the stations down here.”_

_“Try 102.7,” Felix suggested. “Or 106.5. Or 104.3. And you can try 99.5 or 107.3 if those ones don’t work. We’re kind of between the two metropolitan areas, so...” Felix gave a sigh of relief when she finally managed to find a station that did not fade out of existence every time she changed lanes._

_As Annette reluctantly stopped at a light, Felix caught sight of a billboard with a leg lamp on it that said “Call an electrician! We’ll keep you… **turned on!** ” A phone number was listed underneath._

_Felix pointed it out to Sylvain as the ad began to recede from view. “That seems like your kind of humor.”_

_“What is?” Sylvain asked, squinting out the back window. “The sign with the leg lamp?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Why? What does it say?”_

_“Ha!” Felix exclaimed triumphantly. “I knew it! I knew you couldn’t read!”_

_“I can read!” Sylvain protested. “I just can’t read it from this far away! In the dark!”_

_“I think you need glasses, Sylvain.”_

_“Noooo! They would ruin my whole look!”_

_“Mercedes seems to get by.”_

_“I can hear you both back there, you know,” came Mercedes’ voice from the front seat._

_“And they look great on you!” Sylvain said. “But—” He was ultimately unable to come up with an excuse, which made Felix laugh._

_Felix laughed again when he heard Annette go, “Wheee!” as she sailed around a traffic circle, taking the turn on two wheels._

_Then he started feeling a little woozy. “Oh no. Maybe this was a bad idea.” He put a hand up to the headache blooming in his forehead._

_“Motion sick?” Sylvain intuited._

_“Yeah, a little. I forgot facing backwards in a moving vehicle messes with my head.”_

_“Here,” Sylvain said, lowering his knees as much as he could in the cramped space. “You can lay down if that helps.”_

_“I...yeah, thanks.” Felix lay back and placed his head on Sylvain’s lap, closing his eyes. The silence between them for the rest of the car ride was…comfortable._

_They stayed that way until Annette had brought the car to a stop in the diner’s parking lot (though not, strictly speaking, in a single parking space). Dedue kindly opened the trunk to release them._

_“God, I love this place,” Annette sighed happily as they took a booth inside. “I’m so freaking excited for my nachos!”_

_“Can I share them with you?” Felix asked._

_“Sure!” said Annette. (She then ordered two plates of nachos. “What? I’m double hungry!”)_

_As they were chatting and waiting for the food to come, the first few notes of “Dancing Queen” came on, and Sylvain leapt to his feet like he was possessed. “Oh! Oh I must! My time has come.”_

_“Don’t you see the sign?” Felix pointed to the wall._

_Sandwiched between the anachronistic art deco and pop art posters on the wall hung a sign: “No Dancing Allowed.”_

_Sylvain scoffed. “That sign can’t stop me—”_

_“Because you can’t read?”_

_“—because you can’t stop the beat!” Sylvain protested. “Haven’t you seen Hairspray?”_

_“No.”_

_“They really do need to play less ABBA if they expect us not to dance, though,” Annette agreed, rising to join Sylvain._

_“The sign just makes me want to dance even more!” Sylvain admitted. “Like, between the sign and the music, they’re practically forcing us to dance here!” He funky-chickened his way across the floor in a semi-circle, ending up by the other side of the booth where Felix sat. “Stop fighting it, Felix! Dance is an unstoppable force!”_

_“I’m an immovable object,” Felix replied humorlessly._

_Sylvain then decided to relocate his disco dance moves to the table itself, climbing on top of it while Ashe and Mercedes clapped and whooped encouragingly. He helped Annette up, and then they were step-touching back and forth to the beat together, both of Annette’s hands resting in Sylvain’s. Ashe and Mercedes took out their phones and started waving them as flashlights over their heads like they were at a concert._

_“Aww, come on, guys!” Annette called, extending a hand to the two remaining non-participants. “Felix? Dedue?”_

_“I would hit my head on the ceiling,” said Dedue._

_“And I don’t dance,” said Felix._

_“Suit yourselves,” Sylvain said, pulling a giggling Annette closer to prevent her from dancing right off the edge of the table. Their joy was contagious, no matter how hard Felix tried not to catch it._

_Until Ashe said, “I think our waiter is coming!”_

_Annette and Sylvain scrambled off of the table, Sylvain loudly banging his knee as he slid back into his seat on the bench._

_“Was it worth it?” Felix asked maliciously, watching Sylvain clutch his knee with one hand and eat his mozzarella sticks with the other._

_Sylvain turned his head sharply to break the string of melty cheese stretching from his mouth before responding. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”_

_When they all finally stumbled out into the parking lot, Dedue volunteered, “I can sit in the trunk this time.”_

_“Or I can!” Mercedes offered._

_“That’s okay,” Felix said, “we’ll sit in the back again.” Sylvain beamed._

_They took up their positions side by side in the trunk, and Annette began the needlessly treacherous journey back to campus. “Wait, aren’t you going to get motion sick?” Sylvain asked quietly._

_“Maybe.”_

_Sylvain gave him a lopsided little smile._

_As one song on the radio ended and another began, Sylvain exclaimed, “Oh, groovy! This song was, like, made for the radio.”_

_“What’s it called, again?” Felix recognized it, but not well enough to remember the title from just hearing the first note._

_“Warm On a Cold Night. It’s the wrong season for it, but whatever.” Sylvain started dancing with just his arms, like a slow and passionate Macarena. “Bet you could keep me cold on a warm night though, right?”_

_“Shut up.”_

_Following a strange urge to join in, Felix extended his hands out in front of him too. But instead of dancing, he started signing the lyrics. It felt kind of nice to move his hands with the music—expressive, even._

_Sylvain watched in admiration. “What made you pick ASL as your language class?” He tried to copy Felix’s motions and found himself unable to keep up._

_“I guess when you grow up with parents who both have disabilities, you come to recognize its utility,” Felix said, distracted. “And it’s probably the best sounding language, too.”_

_“Ah, the melodious sounds of people shutting the hell up. I shoulda figured you would find that sexier than French or Spanish.”_

_“True,” Felix said, now trying to roughly translate the chorus. Given its repetitive lyrics, it was much easier than the verse._

_“It looks pretty cool, too,” Sylvain complimented. He stopped doing his arm-dancing, deciding to just sing along and watch the movement of Felix’s hands for the rest of the song. He was grinning so broadly that he could barely sing right._

_Felix smiled too. If this was anything like how dancing felt, he might have to try it sometime._

_Annette whipped the car around a traffic circle again, sending Felix tipping sideways into Sylvain. “Steady there,” Sylvain laughed, pushing him back up. Then Felix tipped too far in the opposite direction as Annette came out of the turn. He righted himself, but his head was feeling heavy again._

_“Dizzy?” Sylvain guessed just by looking at him._

_“A—a little. Yeah, I—here, can I just—” Felix adjusted himself, angling inward to face Sylvain. He laced his hands together and hung them heavily on Sylvain’s shoulder, curling forward to press his forehead against the soft pillow of muscle on the side of Sylvain’s arm. “Thanks,” he said softly._

_“Of course.”_

_After Annette dropped them back at their dorm, they tumbled back into their room, wordlessly kicked off their shoes, and lay down side by side on the carpet, too wired from fun to go to sleep just yet. They lay on the ground in the dark, trying to come down from the high._

_“It’s kinda crazy how fun that was,” Sylvain said suddenly from beside Felix. “Like, we didn’t even drink or anything.”_

_“Yeah. Is that a surprise?”_

_“I dunno. I guess I just thought—well, you probably don’t wanna hear this.”_

_“Maybe I do,” Felix admitted._

_“I guess I just thought that...my brain might be broken beyond repair and I would turn out like my brother.”_

_Felix hesitated. “Do you want me to ask what happened to him?”_

_“Overdose,” said Sylvain. “Anyway. Sorry. I’m just… glad I can still be happy without needing anything. He couldn’t.”_

_After a respectful pause, Felix asked, “How much older was he?”_

_“Four years. So I’m, like, halfway done catching up to him in age.” Sylvain laughed quietly and turned his face away just as Felix turned to look at him. “Ah. Sorry if that’s morbid.”_

_“No, it’s okay.”_

_“How about your brother?”_

_“Eight years,” Felix answered. “So I’ve caught up…almost a fourth of the way now.”_

_“Oh, wow, eight years? I didn’t realize—”_

_“That I was literally an accident?” Felix filled in. “Yeah. My parents had no choice but to have a baby shower for me since they’d already gotten rid of all the baby stuff by the time I was on the way.”_

_“That doesn’t mean they didn’t want you,” Sylvain said. He must have had some crazy kind of telepathy._

_“Why would they want another kid, though?” Felix swallowed hard. “Glenn was already the perfect child. Bright, well-mannered, star athlete all through school… ROTC to pay for college, and then off to treat SARS and MERS.”_

_“Is that really what they expected both of you to do?”_

_“The army service, yeah. And I don’t—I don't understand why they want that life for us. For me.” Felix's voice cracked and turned bitter. “And I wasn’t willing to do that. I just felt like I would…die. I know it sounds crazy, but even before Glenn, I had this—this strong feeling that it would be killing myself, one way or another. A premonition, almost. I can’t explain it.”_

_“I don’t think that makes you a bad kid,” Sylvain said._

_“Maybe not, but I haven’t done anything that would make me good, either.”_

_“I wouldn’t say that.”_

_Felix scoffed. “Oh yeah? And how many lives have I saved, exactly?”_

_Sylvain went quiet for a long moment. “One. Yours.”_

_Felix exhaled. And the carpet felt so soft beneath him, and their room was a warm, dark cave—safe, and secret, separate from the rest of the world. For a crazy second, Felix imagined that they were like twins, floating side by side in the void, and this was the room they would be born out of._

_He must have been really tired. “We should go to bed,” he said. “We’ve been in pajamas long enough.”_

_“True.” They both climbed into their twin beds. “Goodnight, Fe,” said Sylvain._

_Felix pretended he hadn’t heard, because otherwise he would’ve had to scold Sylvain for the nickname, and he didn’t really want to anymore._

_“Oh hey, you never told me what that billboard—”_

_“Goodnight, Sylvain.”_

_It took him a long time to fall asleep._

_Felix had a strange dream that night. Right there in his dorm room bed._

_He suddenly found that Sylvain was kneeling over him where he lay—choking him, both hands tight around his neck—and then his vision swam and it was Dorothea straddling him, leaning over to put more pressure into the thumbs screwing down on his windpipe._

_Then Dorothea started making a strange face, breathing down on him with her eyes closed and mouth open, her hips pressing down as hard as her thumbs. And when Felix’s gaze slid down from her face to her heaving breasts, he saw she was in her underwear: a frilly, lacy black and purple bra, with matching purple—_

_Boxers?_

_He looked back up, and the bra was gone, and it was Sylvain, shirtless and panting and grinding down. And Sylvain’s hands were hot, and slick, and—on Felix’s chest._

_Felix could breathe again. And shudder, and move, and it felt so fucking good, like his brain was rewarding him for the vision by feeding him pure heroin—_

_Felix realized he was dreaming with a guilty jolt._

_And once he was aware of the dream, he was in control of it. He was at a crossroads. He could have Dorothea choke him again._

_He watched Sylvain for a long moment. The strange expression looked so good on him._ _Then Felix reached forward and grabbed Sylvain’s hips in his hands. He saw the dream to its completion._

_And when he woke the next morning, all he remembered was that Sylvain was going to kill him, and he wanted to let it happen._

Felix woke up in the middle of the night, in a flushed haze, in Sylvain’s queen bed—and realized from the state of his underwear that he must have had a wet dream, although he didn’t remember it.

Felix quickly felt the sheets and was relieved to find them dry. At least he wouldn’t have to change them too. It would’ve been damn near impossible with Sylvain sleeping on them.

_Sorry Sylvain, but it looks like doing a whole load of laundry just to wash one pair of underwear won’t be a one time thing._

He then realized another problem: he was wearing pajamas borrowed from Sylvain and still didn’t have any of his own.

_Sorry Sylvain, but it looks like stealing your pajamas out of the dresser won't be a one time thing, either._

Felix changed in the dark and gathered up the laundry.

_But why a wet dream? Why now?_

Felix had asked himself that about nearly every wet dream and erection he’d had in his life. They seemed to be entirely random and meaningless, and they were definitely unwanted. And masturbation? That was just another biological chore that Felix had to keep up with. But at least it would have helped him sleep.

Usually when Felix couldn’t sleep, he would bore himself to unconsciousness by laying there and thinking for long enough. But at truly desperate times at school, when he needed the sleep and just couldn’t find his way to it, he would do it. He would wait for whoever was unfortunate enough to be his roommate to fall asleep, and then silently exhaust himself under the covers. (Sorry, Annette. And Sylvain. And Linhardt.)

And even then, he was basically boring himself to orgasm too, thinking of nothing but disembodied hands, and what felt good, and how indulgently long he was taking.

But being in the same bed with someone else had rendered that strategy impossible. That was part of why falling asleep in Sylvain’s bed took him so long almost every night—and, he suspected, why he’d woken up and found himself faced with _this_ again. Why he was washing his underwear in the sink before adding it to the washing machine, not wanting to sully any of the other clothes any more than he had to.

After he’d finally turned on the washing machine, he got back into bed. He tried desperately to stop asking himself _why._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of alcohol and drug use, choking, and... slightly sexual content? I would say it _maybe_ earns an M rating, but definitely not an E (yet).
> 
> If you know me irl and want to skip it, stop reading as soon as Felix goes to sleep. If you don't want to skip it, you technically are allowed to read it, but... sorry.
> 
> Oh and Felix is biracial because so am I :) (And obviously so is Claude. We representing today.)


	12. longing and length

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday, May 7th. Sylvain realizes that some things get better with length.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter, but please check each chapter for content warnings (or if you know me in real life)!

The next morning, Sylvain woke up to find himself alone in his bed. Groggy, he checked the time on his phone. 8:03am. What the hell was Felix doing up before him?

Before getting out of bed, he checked his email and saw he had gotten a notification about a package being delivered. That would probably be Felix’s new pajamas. And that was good, but Sylvain would miss seeing Felix wearing his oversized ones.

Sylvain walked into the kitchen as quietly as possible just so he could say, “Hey Felix!” and watch Felix jump a foot in the air in response. Felix cursed when he nearly broke a plate putting it into the dishwasher. “So Felix, do you have an early class on Thursdays or something?”

"No."

“Okay... how are your many maladies today?”

“My ‘maladies’?” Felix repeated blankly.

“You know. Your hand, your bruises, your cold, your nausea, your ego… am I missing anything?”

Felix gave a moody huff. “No, that’s everything, alright.”

“And? Do I need to check your temperature again?”

Felix’s eyes darted inexplicably down the hallway. “Ah, no. I’m pretty sure I’m not feverish.”

“And what about everything else?” Sylvain hesitated, wondering if he was being too bold. He held out a hand. “Your wounds, for example?”

“Rub salt in them, why don’t you?” Felix grumbled. But he put his upturned hand in Sylvain’s palm without needing to be asked. The weight of Felix’s hand resting in his sent a ridiculous amount of warmth radiating through Sylvain, especially considering how cool Felix’s hands always were.

“See? It’s healing fine,” Felix said, letting Sylvain examine the heel of his hand.

Sylvain’s face heated. As it turned out, it wasn’t Felix he was being too bold for. Sylvain himself was the one who could hardly believe his own daring. He felt his heart skip a beat in a way that could probably qualify as an ailment of its own.

He quickly released Felix’s hand. “Yep, looks good! So, uh, no coughing? No shortness of breath?”

“No. I feel the same as yesterday.”

“Okay, if you say so! What do you want for breakfast?”

“I already ate,” Felix said. “Leftover quiche. I hope you don’t mind.”

Oh. The words felt good, but they also worsened Sylvain’s heart palpitations a little bit. “I don’t mind at all,” he said, feeling ridiculously tender. He turned to the cabinet to grab a coffee filter and hide his stupid honest lovey-dovey face from Felix.

“Oh, hey,” Felix spoke up, “I already got the coffee machine ready. I just didn’t turn it on ‘cause I didn’t know what time you’d wake up.” Felix reached past him to press the button on the coffee machine.

Sylvain stomach clenched tight at the sweetness of the gesture. The way Felix could make him feel, with just a few words, just a simple action—it was the strangest kind of miracle. “Right,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

He thought he saw Felix look at him funny for a second.

“Well—also,” Sylvain said, flustered, “I got an email saying your pajamas arrived, so I’ll just, uh, go pick them up from downstairs!” He had to get out of here now, before he grabbed Felix and dipped him low for a kiss or something.

Felix looked surprised. “Uh, you’re going like that?” He looked at Sylvain pointedly.

Sylvain glanced down at himself. He was in pajamas: sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Good enough. “Yep, be seeing you!” He darted into the bedroom to grab his house key and a mask before heading out the door.

Once he had retrieved the package and regained some measure of composure, he returned to find the coffee was waiting for him in his largest mug, with just the right amount of milk.

Felix slid the mug down the countertop toward him at the same time as he pushed the package toward Felix. They managed to swap without the objects colliding, and Sylvain couldn’t help but picture it as some sort of courtship gift exchange.

Sylvain gratefully picked up the warm mug and took his first sip, sighing contentedly as he realized that Felix had even put the right amount of sugar in. God, what a life. He closed his eyes, inhaling the soothing scent of coffee and melting into his chair. He listened to the sounds of Felix opening the package, the snap of Felix pulling open the plastic the pajamas were packaged in.

“—Sylvain. Sylvain!” Felix’s voice startled him out of his tranquil moment.

“Huh?” He opened his eyes just in time to see Felix fling the pajama shirt at him. He covered his coffee mug with a hand to stop the shirt from dipping into it, but the shirt still got a drop of coffee on it as he jerked the mug out of the way. “What’s—”

“God, you’re so fucking self-centered!” Felix said, suddenly furious.

“What are you even—”

“Sylvain,” Felix growled, staring icy daggers at him all the while, “what size did you buy these in?”

Sylvain’s eyes darted to the tag. “I—oh.”

“You bought them in your own size!” Felix answered for him. “Fucking typical!” He snatched the shirt back and held it up to his torso. “What’s wrong with this picture, Sylvain? Are you noticing a problem yet? Or is it just that you secretly hate me and you’re just really good at hiding it?”

Oh, if only.

In spite of Felix’s fury, Sylvain couldn’t help but laugh. “I—oh my gosh, Felix, I am so sorry,” he said, trying to sound genuine through his poorly suppressed bursts of laughter. “Oh my gosh—fuck, that’s so funny though—I just didn’t even think, I just—”

Felix growled and rubbed at his forehead. “I know you didn’t. And now we can’t even return them, because _you_ got coffee on them!”

“Me?” Sylvain scoffed. “ _You_ threw them at me!”

Felix gaped at him. “ _You bought them in your own size in the first place_!” he yelled, gesturing wildly. He even balled up his fist in frustration, but it looked rather funny when his too-long sleeve fell forward over his hand.

“And what do you want me to do about it?” Sylvain asked. He was intimidated, entertained, and—dare he say—a little turned on. Even after five nights together, he still found pissed-off Felix in oversized pajamas mad cute.

And Felix was currently pissed-off as hell. “You know, for a smart guy, you’re _really fucking stupid_. Like, literally, what is in your head? Daisies? Pancake mix? Do you use your entire cranial capacity to store nuts for the winter or something?” Felix ranted, incoherent with rage.

“Dude, you’ve been sleeping in my pajamas this whole time with no problem,” Sylvain pointed out, helplessly fond of the livid, tortured creature before him. “These ones will fit you just as well as any of my other ones! And oversized is a good look on you, you know.”

Wait. Sylvain bit his tongue before any other of his incriminating thoughts could escape the confines of his (possibly nut-filled) head. Oh well! At least the one upside to being a compulsive flirt was that he could blurt out things like that and Felix would never even suspect how much he meant them.

“Point is,” Sylvain finished, “you now have pajamas of your own. Might as well wear them.”

Felix stared at him with murderous intent clear in his eyes. “Oh, I am so going to boil you alive…” he muttered.

“I do so love a hot tub,” Sylvain replied.

Felix glared back down at the shirt in his hand, simmering in anger and chewing his lip all the while, before throwing it at Sylvain’s face again, saying, “Just—keep the new ones for yourself, then, since that’s who you bought them for!”

Sylvain was fine with that solution. More than fine with it. After all, he did secretly like seeing Felix wearing his pajamas.

And not only that, but this also meant that _he, Sylvain,_ would get to wear the new pajamas that Felix had picked out, didn’t it? Almost like they were a gift from him… If so, this was the most extended courtship Sylvain had ever been a part of.

Or maybe—just maybe! —they weren’t a gift at all, and Felix would rip the new pajamas off of him in jealousy if he put them on. Oh no, Sylvain liked that concept too. How was it that even his stupidest mistakes seemed to have more benefits than consequences when Felix was around?

“You sure you don’t want them?” Sylvain offered one last time. “Even though they’re brand spankin’ new and I bought them just for you?”

“Yeah,” Felix grumbled, crossing his arms. “Keep them. I don’t care. I’ve gotten used to wearing these ones anyway.” He turned on his heel, leaving the mess of plastic packaging for Sylvain to clean up.

But as Felix walked away, Sylvain realized there was just one problem with Felix’s reasoning.

Felix had never worn that particular set of pajamas before.

_ingrid i think i’m dying_

_oh no whats wrong???_

_dr. galatea is on the case_

_okay. so._

_you know how felix’s dad forgot to pack him pajamas?_

_yes._

_lmao of course this is about felix, i shoulda guessed_

_well i offered to buy him new ones, and_

_hey!! don’t mock me, i’m truly dying here!!_

_are u really tho?_

_do you WANT me to be physically injured or something???_

_lol im sorry, pls go on_

_so anyway, i was an idiot and bought the pajamas in MY size_

_so obviously they are the wrong size for felix_

_omg u dummy_

_so now he’s insisting on wearing MY pajamas_

_and like, not the new ones that are big on him,,,,,,_

_but my own pajamas. which i have worn._

_which are equally big on him._

_wowwwww_

_and the sleeves are too long on him and i just kjfjsjahfkf_

_he’s so cute i’m gonna dieeee_

_i don’t know how much longer i can go on like this_

_damn, what an iconic twink move_

_which is fitting, bc felix is an iconic twink_

_i’ll tell him you said that_

_nooooooooooo_

_lmao_

_but god i sure hope you’re right_

_ok but lets be real for a sec_

_why are you so certain felix couldnt possibly be gay and/or like you?_

_im writing you a prescription for a course of “just tell him u like him”_

_nooooooo_

_dr galatea, please have mercy_

_bruh. seriously. hes wearing your pajamas._

_sleeping in ur bed._

_uhhhh did you forget what happened the last time felix and i kissed_

_i dont think you ever fully explained?_

_what happened exactly???_

_oh. well in that case i’m not about to explain it now_

_let’s just say it went really…not great_

_i thought you said he was into it?_

_i thought he was!!??!_

_i would never have kissed him if i thought he wasn’t!!_

_yeowch_

_but more importantly, it like, ruined our friendship_

_and i just don’t want that to happen again_

_but what if you uhhhhh used your mouth this time_

_ingrid….._

_omg……………………..…._

_I MEANT YOUR WORDS_

_lololol this is funny in so many ways_

_i just think you should talk to him about it!_

_no no wait let’s take a moment to consider if i used my mouth_

_to talk!!!_

_ingrid tell me, what do you usually kiss people with_

_omg i meant TO TALK!!!!_

_u know, instead of torturing yourself like u are now!!_

_what excellent torture it is tho…._

_oh are you a masochist now?_

_i mean, being gay IS suffering_

_askd;ghjs do i even need to tell u why thats wrong_

_no_

_but you gotta admit, all love is kinda just suffering_

_no, it really shouldnt be_

_ah. but it is_

_watch your tone young man :(_

_im not loving it._

_unmcdonald._

_ok yeah sorry_

_also that might be the funniest way you’ve ever hated a text_

_u are forgiven._

_and thank u for appreciating the many ways i hate your texts_

_oh btw this reminded me of you!_

She sent a screenshot of a post that read, “shut the hell your mouth. *kisses you*”

_uhhhh why did this remind you of me?? lmfao_

_this requires an explanation_

_thats what will happen when u finally tell felix your feelings :)_

_agkslgjskldfgj NO_

_just let him know! give him a little sign_

_HOW_

_i already flirt with him constantly_

_you flirt with everyone constantly_

_i know. that’s the problem_

_what else am i supposed to do??_

_idk. just tell him that u wish to know him carnally_

_i feel like i am being mocked rn_

_and legit, he’s way more likely to punch me than kiss me if i do that_

_aww come on, felix wouldnt hurt a fly!_

_he hurts me :(_

_hmm….._

_u are not a fly tho_

_thanks. everything is clear now_

_no problem :) happy to assist_

_but seriously, you should just casually drop it into conversation_

_just be like “haha, so true king! anyway do u like men”_

_that is a TERRIBLE idea_

_clearly u have no experience with men_

_thanks, you too_

_actually that is…factually untrue_

_yeah. bc i lived with u felix and dimitri for a year_

_that’s…not what i meant…._

_my point still stands. just offer him fellatio_

_oh so THAT’s what you meant by “use your mouth this time”_

_sdjfklgfd will you ever let me live that down_

_absolutely not_

_oh my godddddd just suck his dick already then!!_

_im 99% sure that he wont say no if u offer_

_i’d put my money on that remaining 1%_

_oh come on sylvain, does anyone say no to head?_

_besides, fear of rejection has never stopped u before!_

_hey!_

_im just saying. overcome your fears_

_go crazy go stupid_

_am i not already crazy and stupid enough_

_…touche_

_but go crazy go stupid has worked 2 out of 2 times for me_

_well aren’t u lucky_

_i am! <3_

_did you offer them both head_

_no, i told them my feelings. u should try it sometime_

_but for real, if you dont tell felix u like him soon, i will_

_DONT U DARE_

_sylvain and felix, sitting in a tree…_

_leave me be, woman!!_

_no :)_

_i want u to have love :)_

_stop with the passive aggressive smiley faces :)_

_ok <3 _

_ttyl sylvain_

_askldgjdls bye ingrid <3_

Felix had class again that day, so Sylvain didn’t see him again until he emerged in the early afternoon for lunch.

Sadly, Felix had changed out of Sylvain’s pajamas by this point in the day. Thankfully, he had also had some time to cool down from “utterly furious” to something more like “slightly grouchy”.

“Any suggestions as to what I should have for lunch?” Felix asked as he peered into the fridge.

Sylvain consciously decided _not_ to offer him fellatio. That was probably not the kind of afternoon delight Felix was interested in. “Um, we could put in a frozen pizza or something,” he suggested instead, sitting up from where he had been lounging on the couch.

“Sure, works for me,” Felix said. He checked the box in the freezer and preheated the oven accordingly. “I haven’t had pizza in a while, come to think of it. Frozen or otherwise.”

“Ooh, we could order pizza for Annette’s party!” Sylvain exclaimed as the idea struck him. “Like, the non-frozen variety!”

“But we’re about to have pizza right now.”

“Pizza is such a party food, though! And the party is still two days away, isn’t it?”

“You’re awfully excited about it already,” Felix muttered, looking mildly unhappy that he was being forced to make conversation while he waited for the oven to preheat.

“Well of course I am!” Sylvain said. “It’s like, my biggest social event since March! I think you’re forgetting that you were one of the few lucky people to have a birthday in physical space instead of virtual space this year.”

“And I didn’t even have a birthday party for it,” Felix said drily.

Sylvain gasped. “What? You didn’t?”

“Not really. I just went out for dinner with Ingrid and the boar, and then Ingrid had to leave early, and it was, overall, just incredibly awkward.”

“So no cake?!” Sylvain exclaimed, aghast.

Felix raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, no? I don’t even like cake.”

“Ugh, that’s just inhumane! We _have_ to rectify that.”

“You’re going to force feed me cake?” Felix asked, a note of fear in his voice.

“Well that’s one idea…” Sylvain acknowledged. “But I meant you have to have a birthday party! Ooh, have you ever had ice cream pie?”

“No…? I’ve had ice cream _cake_ before, but—”

“Oh, bitch, are you for real?” Sylvain slapped his hands down onto his thighs and stood up from the couch. “That’s it, I’m getting out the oreos. Go get whatever ice cream is in the freezer and put it out on the counter to defrost a bit. You _are_ having a birthday party—”

“Oh, lucky me!” Felix said sarcastically.

“—and that means there _must_ be dessert!”

“Oh,” Felix sighed. “Unlucky me.”

Sylvain rolled his eyes in exasperation. “C'mon, Felix! You haven’t lived if you’ve never had ice cream pie.”

“Then I’ve never lived. And at this point I’m not sure I want to,” Felix said, sighing. But he opened the freezer again and pulled out the first container of ice cream he saw, setting it on the counter to soften.

Meanwhile, Sylvain rifled through the pantry for oreos, righteously outraged by the injustice of a year without a birthday party. He would make sure Felix celebrated properly even if it meant he had to throw the party himself!

He tossed a half empty container of oreos onto the counter and said with a slow grin, “Oh, Felix, I think you’re gonna like this better than baking.”

“Why is that?”

“You get to beat the shit out of these oreos.”

Felix’s mouth tugged up into a pleased little grin. “I think I could warm up to this dessert after all.”

“Like the ice cream.”

“Just like the ice cream.”

Sylvain cackled with how perfect everything was.

In an excited flurry of activity, Felix crushed the oreos to smithereens with a rolling pin while Sylvain got out a pie dish (and remembered to put in their pizza as well). The slight heat from the oven softened the ice cream on the counter perfectly so it was soft and easy to pack into their homemade oreo pie crust. The ice cream pie went into the freezer to re-solidify right as the pizza came out of the oven.

Sylvain sighed happily as he sat down with a slice. “How is everything so perfect?” he wondered.

“Huh?” Felix said mid-bite of pizza.

Sylvain started in his seat. “Oh, no, did I say that out loud?” Felix looked at him funny again, the way one might look at a child stomping around to see their shoes light up. Sylvain tried not to think too deeply into what that look meant.

“Yes,” Felix said, “you sure did.”

Sylvain scrambled to cover the slip. “I meant, um—” Felix was biting nonchalantly into his second piece of pizza. “Wait, do you even care what I meant?” Sylvain asked.

“Nope,” Felix responded. “You always say what you mean the first time around. No brain to mouth filter, remember?” He flicked Sylvain in the side of the head and rose to put his plate in the dishwasher.

Sylvain chuckled and nervously put his hand to the back of his head. “Haha, I guess you know that about me by now, huh?”

Felix shot him a wry grin and said, “You don’t let me forget,” before he turned and retreated back into the bedroom.

Sylvain waited until the door was closed to throw himself onto the couch, screaming internally about the fact that Felix was twenty-one and perfect and treated Sylvain’s bedroom like home.

It wasn’t until later while Sylvain was reading on the couch with one hand behind his head that Felix returned to the kitchen for a glass of water and Sylvain suddenly started thinking about the length of his hair.

When Sylvain first met Felix in freshman year, Felix’s hair must have been just a bit more than chin length. It had been just long enough to pull into a short tuft of a ponytail, which was how Felix was wearing it on that infamous night with the cat-ears.

(“Your little warrior’s wolf-tail,” Sylvain had often teased him afterward. Felix had started putting it in a bun as soon as it was long enough to do so.)

Sylvain had never really wondered about _why_ Felix had long hair _._ He assumed it was just one of the better ways to differentiate yourself from your big brother who had lived and died with a habitual crew cut.

And Felix had kept growing his hair out ever since. By now it had grown to somewhere past Felix’s shoulders—though Sylvain wasn’t exactly sure how far down his back it would go, since it was always in a bun or a braid. But surely Felix still got an occasional trim, right? Or maybe trimmed it himself?

Sylvain decided to ask. “Hey, Felix.”

“That’s my name,” Felix responded.

“I was just wondering... do you cut your own hair?”

“Yes. Have been for several years now. Ingrid got mad at me for leaving hair on the bathroom floor that one time, remember?”

“Oh, right. Well, as you can imagine—”

“You want me to cut your hair.”

Sylvain nodded with an apologetic smile. “It’s getting a little shaggy.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” Felix stood without further ado and circled around Sylvain, standing behind him to comb his hair with his fingers to see how long it was before letting it fall back into place. “You mean you don’t love having a mullet?”

“Is it really that long in the back? I can’t exactly tell.” Sylvain put his hand to the back of his neck, ostensibly to feel the length of his hair. (But privately, it was to feel where Felix’s fingers had trailed sparks over his skin).

Within minutes, Sylvain was seated on his bed as Felix retrieved the scissors from his desk. Felix fished them out and asked, “We should do it in the bathroom, right? It’s easier to clean up that way. Any last requests before I cut it?”

“… Actually, just wondering, is my hair long enough to pull back with a ponytail holder?” Sylvain found himself asking. “Not that I have any ponytail holders. I was just curious.”

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely long enough. Do you wanna borrow one of mine?“

And Sylvain realized, “Yes. Yes, actually. Can I?”

He expected Felix to pull the extra one off his wrist and drop it into his hand, but Felix sat beside him on the edge of the bed. Felix sat behind him with one leg folded on the bed, both of them angled to face the mirror, and began pulling his hair back, gathering it at the base of his skull. “Is this the longest your hair’s ever been?”

“I’ve never really thought about it. But yeah, I guess so.” And then another thought occurred to Sylvain. “Is it long enough to braid?”

“Maybe.” Felix reached around one side of Sylvain's head and took a small section of hair at the front of his scalp. He divided it and began braiding the strands in his fingers, weaving in more hair as he worked his way back.

It obviously didn’t turn out amazing; Sylvain’s hair stuck out in little tufts all along the length of the braid due to its uneven length. But it was nice, somehow. He slowly rotated his head, mesmerized by the sight of himself in the mirror, looking so… different.

And Sylvain decided that maybe Felix hadn’t grown his hair out to spite his parents. Maybe he liked it being a bit long because it felt like freedom.

“How do I look?” he asked, touching the braid with one hand.

“Ravishing,” Felix said emotionlessly.

Sylvain chuckled. “Thanks. Was it hard to learn?”

“What, braiding in general? Or a dutch braid specifically?”

“I thought it was called a french braid.” 

Felix idly started a tiny braid with a loose strand of hair by Sylvain’s ear. “That’s a little different.” He finished the little braid and then released it, letting the hair unwind itself. “But no, it’s not that hard to learn. And it’s easier if you can practice on someone else. I actually learned how from Ingrid in middle school, way before I started growing out my own hair.”

“Aww! I never had a female friend to teach me how to braid,” Sylvain lamented.

“I can’t imagine why,” Felix commented drily.

“Hey, I respect women!”

“Are you kidding? You don’t even respect yourself,” Felix said, amused. “But yeah, Ingrid made me learn all the braids. And I mean _all of them_.”

“What? How many are there?”

“I dunno. Lots. Fishtail, waterfall, two strand twist, feather braid... I couldn’t even do some of them. Like the ladder braid? God, that’s a hard one. But yeah, even the boar knows how to braid hair, and he’s never had his hair very long. Being friends with Ingrid will do that to you. She can be kinda demanding, actually.”

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Sylvain cooed obnoxiously.

Felix ignored him and tilted his head in thought. “You know, now that I think about it, I think I really hated having short hair. Wow. Thank god you never knew me like that. I would never be able to live it down.”

“You already can’t live it down. Ingrid showed me pictures,” Sylvain said, enjoying the displeased look that crossed Felix’s face in the mirror.

“Ugh, that little traitor. _I_ don’t show people ugly pictures of _her_.”

“Aww, don’t be modest! You had a cute scraggly Harry Potter thing going.”

“Oh, if that’s what you saw, that’s fine,” Felix said, visibly relaxing. “That must have been from high school, because in middle school I still looked like a child soldier. It wasn’t cute.”

“Yeah right! You could shave it all off and still be cute,” Sylvain said. “Like Aang! We could draw the arrow on your forehead.” Felix yanked out the ponytail holder in punishment, letting Sylvain’s tightly bound hair unravel. “Hey!”

Felix scowled. “Don’t call me cute.”

“But you are,” Sylvain said, playing up the smugness of his smile.

“Learn how to braid it yourself, then,” Felix grumbled, dropping the ponytail holder into his lap.

“Fine, I’ll learn. Teach me.” Sylvain moved to sit on Felix’s other side, effectively swapping their positions. He mimicked Felix’s pose and also tucked one leg up on the bed, letting his bent knee fall on the other side of Felix’s hips. “Just tell me what to do,” he said. “I’ll practice it on you.”

“Ugh,” Felix groaned like this was an enormous chore. But he acquiesced, reaching behind his head and tugging his messy bun loose from the elastic. His dark hair tumbled down to his mid-back. Longer than Sylvain had realized, and so pretty.

And now Sylvain got to braid it. What a wonderful excuse to find out if it was as silky as it looked.

Then Felix twisted to hand him the elastic, and Sylvain sincerely hoped he hadn’t noticed the way he had been looking at him. Sylvain leaned to one side and then the other to gather up the stray hairs near Felix’s face.

His gaze caught on Felix’s many ear piercings. The little silver spikes jutted out like a physical manifestation of his prickliness, yet the shell of Felix’s ear gently folded as Sylvain’s fingers brushed over the spikes in his cartilage. Sylvain thought he counted one more piercing than he remembered Felix having the year before.

After a long moment of sitting still with Felix’s hair in his hands, Sylvain asked, “So, how do I do this?”

“Oh. You split it into three sections. The sections should be as even as you can make them.” Felix paused to give him a moment to sort it out between his fingers. “And then you just… take the one from one side and put it in the middle, and take the one on the other side and put it in the middle.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Can I just show you first?” Felix’s arms reached behind his head to take back his hair. He turned to face Sylvain and pulled his hair over one shoulder to his chest. He looked down at his hair as his two hands quickly twisted the strands of hair, swapping them back and forth between nimble fingers.

Felix’s fingers positively flew, exchanging strands of hair too fast for Sylvain to track how he was doing it. “See?” Felix said when he was finished.

Sylvain’s head spun a bit. “Um, sorry, can you do it again?”

Felix huffed, but it seemed to be a small laugh rather than a sign of annoyance. “Fine. But try to watch this time, okay?”

“Or you could try to do it slower this time.”

Felix didn’t respond, but he slowed and exaggerated the act of crossing strands over each other, alternating sides. He reached the ends of his hair and just held the braid still for a moment. Sylvain couldn’t help but admire the evenness of it, how neat and perfect it was. Like everything Felix did.

“Got it?” Felix asked, startling Sylvain out of his reverie.

Sylvain let out a nervous laugh. “Well, I guess we’re about to find out.”

Felix turned his back to Sylvain again, tossing his hair over his shoulder. “Okay, so,” Felix said in preparation to talk him through it. “Pick up three strands. You don’t even have to use all of my hair if that makes it easier.”

“Ah, that’s okay. I think it would be more confusing to only use a little bit.”

“Okay. So you have it divided in three?”

“How am I supposed to hold three strands with only two hands?”

“You have ten fingers,” Felix said. “Get creative.”

Sylvain was glad Felix couldn’t see him blushing stupidly at his words, holding his hair reverently in his hands. He managed to get three evenly sized sections. “Yep. Okay. Next?”

“Take the leftmost strand and lift it over so it becomes the middle strand.” Sylvain did. “And then take the rightmost strand and make it the middle strand.” Sylvain did.

“And then just keep doing that.” Sylvain continued weaving the thick strands of Felix’s hair, getting a feel for the motion, for how to pull it tight but not too tight, and for the strong, silky texture that made his hands feel softer just by being in contact with it.

He almost wanted to mess up the braid just to be able to comb it back out again. But even more than that, he wanted to show Felix that he’d been listening.

So he carefully finished the braid, proudly saying, “Done!” as he reached the ends of Felix’s hair.

Felix glanced back over his shoulder. “It’s not done until you tie it off.”

Sylvain did. “Done!” he proclaimed again, grinning his victory.

Felix looked surprised, somehow. He tilted his head in confusion as he said, “Sounds like you liked doing this…?”

Sylvain did.

Felix rose from the bed and went to stand at the mirror, turning his back to it. He got out his phone for the front-facing camera and angled it to look at the reflection of the braid down his back. “Not bad,” he said, “for a first try. But you’ll get better at it with practice.”

Sylvain felt warm inside. He closed his eyes. He wanted to keep this feeling in a jar.

When he opened his eyes again, Felix was tucking his phone away. “So, do you still want me to cut it?” Felix asked.

“Cut it?” Sylvain said dumbly.

“Um, yeah? Your hair? Do you want me to cut it or not?”

“…Maybe just the mullet in the back.”


	13. belated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday, May 7th. Felix feels better, and worse, and does several things much later than everyone else. (Including starting to make sense of that one night sophomore year.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some minor content warnings in the end notes!

Felix was having a really, really weird day. It was mostly because he couldn’t tell if his cold was better or worse than the day before, due to his bizarre set of symptoms.

He felt remarkably good today—as in, in a good mood—as though maybe he was finally getting used to living with Sylvain again, getting used to their new routine. Felix liked routine. He liked when things were reliable and second-nature and easy to fall into. And Sylvain was somehow like the human equivalent of a routine, with all of the good parts and none of the boring predictability.

But truth be told, Felix _was_ starting to experience some shortness of breath. He didn’t want to worry Sylvain with it, especially since he couldn’t be sure if it was real or if he was just imagining it. It only happened intermittently and he couldn’t figure out why.

Half the day had passed like a daydream; Felix barely remembered what had happened in class that day, if anything had happened at all.

And having a birthday party in May when his birthday was in February wasn’t helping him fight the vague dissociative feeling that today was actually a fever dream. Neither was building a pillow fort for the first time in his life.

In short, Felix was convinced he was either dying or losing his mind.

They had just finished a lazy dinner of ravioli and pesto when it started raining outside. Sylvain exhaled slowly and flopped into the couch, visibly softening into it. “Ah,” he sighed happily, “could this get any cozier? I think the only thing that would make this better is if I had a fireplace. Or a fire pit. Just some kind of fire so we could make s’mores.”

Felix perched next to him on the armrest. “You could slowly roast a marshmallow over a candle,” he suggested, tongue firmly in cheek. “Or over the stove.”

“Ugh,” Sylvain groaned. “Don’t mock me over my love of marshmallows!”

“But you’re so easy to mock,” Felix said. “Also, it’s May. Also, a fireplace simply isn’t in the cards for an apartment dweller.” He was deeply enjoying shooting Sylvain’s idea down in as many ways as possible.

“But doesn’t the rain just make you want to build a pillow fort and get cozy?” Sylvain asked, turning his smile on Felix.

“I—I’ve never built a pillow fort,” Felix realized.

“Oh, bro, how has your life been so deprived!? No ice cream pie? No pillow forts? How have you even survived this long?”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “I thought I haven’t even lived until I’ve eaten ice cream pie.”

“Good point! It’s a good thing I’m determined to bring you to life today. They don’t call it a birthday party for nothing, you know.” Sylvain bounced up out of his seat. “Alright, let’s get to it!”

“Get to—”

“The pillow fort, of course!” Sylvain dashed away to his bedroom. He returned a moment later with as many pillows as he could carry in his arms, dragging the comforter from his bed along the floor. Felix watched and hoped that Sylvain’s floor was clean.

Sylvain dumped everything onto the couch, and then disappeared into his room again and returned with even more blankets and several thick books. “There, that should be enough.”

“What? That looks like more blanket than pillow,” Felix said, confused.

“Correct. There is an art to constructing a fort. You’ll see.”

Over the next few minutes, Sylvain revealed his design plan by explaining as they built it. They dragged over the chairs from the dining table, turning them around and setting them a few feet apart behind the couch. Sylvain draped a light blanket over the chair backs and the back of the couch.

After creating the canopy, they lay down the remaining blankets on the floor. (“There! Nice and soft!” said Sylvain. There was something unexpected about it, though Felix could not explain why.) They stole the couch cushions and propped them up against the back of the couch inside the fort.

“So what are the books for?” Felix wondered. The fort looked nearly finished already.

“To anchor the blanket, of course!” Sylvain placed one on top of the seat of the chair, pinning that edge of the blanket with its weight. “Otherwise it’ll slide off when we move the chairs farther apart. You didn’t think we were both gonna squeeze into that, did you?”

(Felix had, in fact, thought that.)

“Here, you do the couch.” Sylvain plopped two heavy hardcovers into Felix’s hands, and then followed him to the other side of the couch to observe his technique. Felix placed the books, not sure what the big deal was. Sylvain leaned in from behind him and reached for one of the books, adjusting it an inch. “Yeah,” he said. “Just like that.” Felix’s stomach buzzed at the words.

He couldn’t think why that would be. Unless Sylvain’s voice so close to his ear was inducing some kind of ASMR-like response? But the buzz lasted far too long for that to be true. And it certainly wasn’t nausea, either... Felix tried very hard to ignore it and make it go away, and sure enough, the feeling did subside. Only after it had faded did he realize it had not been unpleasant.

“See?” Sylvain asked, placing his hands proudly on his hips to survey their work. “Looks cozy, doesn’t it?” (Felix would have agreed, but his chest felt tight again. Just as it had been feeling on-and-off all day.) “Go on, try it out!”

Felix frowned. “You first.”

“Sure!” Sylvain crawled in and then sat back against the couch, grinning. “Your turn.”

Felix then regretted not going first as he practically crawled over Sylvain’s legs to sit next to him. “Uh, okay. What do you do now?”

“You watch a movie or read a book or something. Like, pick a cozy movie.” Sylvain looked at him expectantly.

“You're asking me? I lived a media-deprived existence, remember?”

“Oh my gosh! Let’s have Terrible Movie Thursday!” In response to Felix’s blank stare, Sylvain added, “As opposed to Terrible Movie Tuesday! It’s usually a Tuesday thing, but we can modify it. Just give me a sec to get my laptop.”

“There’s a TV right there,” Felix said, pointing through the back of the couch.

“Yeah, but the pillow fort is set up on _this_ side of the couch, so...” Sylvain scampered off again and then returned with his laptop, placing it on Felix’s lap while he entered the pillow fort and settled next to Felix again.

“So are we watching, like, Rocky Horror or something?” Felix asked. “That could be fun.”

“No!” Sylvain said, offended. “Rocky Horror is a _great_ terrible movie. I’m talking about something truly dreadful. Something super shitty. Just absolute trash.”

Felix felt fear rising in him. “Oh no, Cats?”

A look of pure dread crossed Sylvain’s face. “No,” he said quickly. “That’s too awful to comprehend. Here’s what I propose—actually, let me see if I can find it.” He finagled about on the internet for a moment and then said, “Yep, got it! That settles it. We’re watching Starcrash.”

“That already sounds terrible just from the title,” Felix said.

“Oh, it is!” Sylvain assured him. “You’ll love it.”

“What is it about?”

“ _About?_ Why must a movie be _about_ anything, Felix?”

“I guess it doesn’t need to be, if it’s terrible.”

“Which it is!” Sylvain moved the laptop to rest on one of his legs and one of Felix’s. Felix’s breathing stopped again for a second. “But it’s, like—I would call it a Star Wars rip-off, but that implies that the end result at all resembles Star Wars. It’s more like a disaster that just happens to be wearing a Darth Vader costume.”

Felix’s mouth tugged into a small smile. “Shoulda watched it a few days ago, then.”

“Why?”

“May the 4th.”

“God, I only wish I still knew months and days,” Sylvain said regretfully.

“You knew that it’s Thursday,” Felix reminded him.

“Yes, I can keep track of which day it is when there are only seven options. I cannot, however, keep track of which day it is out of three hundred and sixty five.” Sylvain made the movie fullscreen and then suddenly perked up. “Wait, I just remembered there’s a drinking game! But wait, no, it would kill us both.” He wilted just as fast.

Felix stifled the urge to laugh. “I’d be fine with that as long as we die simultaneously,” he said. “I just don’t want to be saddled with arranging your funeral.”

“Thanks Felix, but I think having to watch this movie completely sober is actually a fate worse than death. And today I’m a sadist.”

“And a masochist,” Felix pointed out. “You’ll have to watch it sober, too.”

“Nah. I’ll be too busy just watching you,” Sylvain said, letting his eyes narrow to flirtatious, half-lidded slits. Felix’s insides squirmed.

“And providing commentary, of course,” Sylvain added. He looked back to his computer screen, apparently not noticing that Felix’s intestines were now snakes.

True to his word, Sylvain kept up a fairly constant stream of commentary throughout the entire movie, which was probably the only thing making it at all bearable.

First Sylvain commented, “In the future, elevators will move sideways,” surprising a bark of laughter out of Felix.

And then Sylvain kept saying, “If we were playing the drinking game…”

“We would drink right now for Akton smiling at something not worth smiling at.”

“We’d drink for an explosion covering the whole screen. Oh, and drink again for them replaying that clip, too. They really got good use out of that one, didn’t they? I feel like seeing it once was enough, though.”

(“Even once was too much, in my opinion,” Felix complained. Sylvain laughed.)

At one point Sylvain declared, “We would drink now, since Stella just came on screen wearing a completely different outfit from the last time we saw her. God, I want to marry the person who did the costume design for this movie.”

“Really?” laughed Felix. “I think I want to murder them.”

“That’s the essential difference between us, I think,” Sylvain said. He gave Felix a glance that was way more entertaining than the movie. Felix met his gaze and felt wound up inside again. Then Sylvain looked back at the screen and added, “Oh, drink for the laws of physics being ignored again.”

And though it was purely hypothetical, Felix felt a little drunk anyway from the combination of laughing and terrible special effects and having to watch the same clips get repeated over and over. Drunk in the most pleasant way, where nothing made sense but he had stopped trying to understand and was having fun anyway.

This was the strangest illness he had ever experienced.

Toward the end of the movie, Sylvain said, “According to the drinking game you’re supposed to chug for the entire time that the Emperor says, ‘Imperial Battleship... halt the flow of time!’”

“I understand now why you said the drinking game would kill us,” Felix said, nodding in respect for whoever had died watching this awful movie.

Sylvain laughed. “I know, right?” Then he sat bolt upright. “Oh my gosh, do you know what I just thought of?!”

“What?”

“Next time we could play the drinking game, but with water!” Sylvain said excitedly. “Oh my god, can you imagine? We would be so hydrated.”

“Are you kidding?” asked Felix, disturbed. “That sounds like torture! I think the only thing that could make this movie worse would be needing to pee the entire time.”

“Oh, that’s even better!” Sylvain cackled. “My inner sadist is pleased.”

When the movie finally, blessedly ended, Felix shook his head, equally pained and satisfied that the movie had ended just as terribly as it began. “Why the fuck did you make me watch this?” he asked, grabbing the pillow from behind his back to whack Sylvain with it.

Sylvain laughed. “I told you, I’m feeling sadistic today!”

“You did really fucking good then, because that was truly painful to endure.”

Sylvain sighed happily. “Yeah, but wasn’t it funny too?”

“Like our friendship.”

Sylvain’s face split into a pleased grin. “So you admit we’re friends, then.”

Felix scoffed. “Yeah, like I admit that Starcrash is a film,” he said, voice drenched in sarcasm.

“So... technically true, but you would never say it?” Sylvain got another whack with the pillow and fell over laughing. “Fine, fine! Will you help me deconstruct the pillow fort at least?”

“No,” Felix said. He swept up as many blankets and pillows as he could carry and started remaking the bed.

Once the pillow fort was all cleaned up and the living room back in order, Felix returned the chairs to the dining table and said, “That’s everything, right?”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Sylvain asked.

Sylvain must have noticed Felix looking disproportionately confused and alarmed by that, because he quickly clarified, “The ice cream pie. For your fake birthday.” He went to the kitchen and whisked the pie dish out of the freezer and a cake-cutter out of the silverware drawer.

Felix went to grab bowls and spoons for them both, but Sylvain said, “Sit down! It’s your belated birthday party after all.”

He sat while Sylvain placed everything on the table in front of him. “What, no candles?” Felix complained for the sake of it.

But Sylvain’s eyes lit up. “Ooh! Stay right there,” he ordered Felix sternly, as if Felix would jump out the window as soon as he left the room. (Which was kind of funny to picture, but no. They were too far from the ground, and Felix’s passive death wish had been strangely dormant recently.)

Sylvain returned with his three pillar candles and set them down proudly, arranging them into a weird little right triangle. “See?” Sylvain grouped them with his hands. “Two, and one.”

“Twenty-one,” Felix murmured, feeling a little touched by Sylvain’s creativity.

Sylvain lit the candles, sat down across the table from Felix, and opened his mouth. “ _Haaaaaappy—”_

“Please don’t—”

_“—birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Felix, happy birthday to you!”_

“You are the cheesiest motherfucker I’ve ever met,” Felix said, tiredly hiding his face in his hands.

“Great. I love cheese,” said Sylvain. The grin on Sylvain’s face told Felix that he knew exactly how much Felix hated this. “And what’s the point of making a birthday ice cream pie if we don’t even sing?”

Felix huffed and despairingly asked, “Can’t you ever stop making me things?”

“No. I’m gonna keep feeding you until you’re fat and happy.”

“Food doesn't make me happy,” Felix said, not realizing what a lie it was until he said it.

“Damn, okay! Just fat, then.” Sylvain seemed only mildly offended, as though he had expected the response.

Felix looked down at his hands. “I don’t mean that,” he said quietly.

“Don’t mean what?”

“That food can’t make me happy. You... you’re a good cook.”

“Aww…Felix...”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said, poking Sylvain on the cheek. “So I guess I should blow out the candles?”

“You don’t have to, but if you want to make a wish...”

“My wish is to gently blow out the candles before your table can get covered in hot wax.”

“Ah…hot wax…” Sylvain said thoughtfully. “That’s the name I used to dance under, y’know.”

Felix ignored him and blew out the candles.

Soon they both had a slice of ice cream pie in front of them. Felix could feel Sylvain’s eyes on him as he took a first cautious bite of it. It was, admittedly, pretty good. “This would be so good with whipped cream.” He looked up to see Sylvain looking pleased.

“Ah, whipped cream!” Sylvain said. “That’s another name I used to perform under.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t that joke ever get old?”

“No. No it doesn’t.”

Felix took another bite with plenty of crushed oreo and liked it even more. “Okay, this might be the second best way to eat ice cream.”

“ _Second_ best?” Sylvain asked.

“Yeah. In a cone is the still the best way.”

“Shit, you’re right. I really miss getting ice cream in a cone.”

“And bubble tea was pretty nice.”

“Ooh, and egg waffles!”

“Egg waffles are okay,” Felix said, “but I’d sacrifice a virgin to Satan for one of those ham and cheese crêpes right now.”

“Aww, Felix, it’s not worth killing yourself over!” Sylvain said patronizingly. “Maybe you can contact Satan and ask if you can just sacrifice your virginity instead?” Felix reached across the table to flick him in the forehead.

“Oh, you know what I really miss?" Sylvain said. "Dancing.”

Felix gave him a flat look. “You don’t have to go anywhere to dance. No one’s stopping you from dancing in your own home.”

“I suppose so,” Sylvain sighed. “But it’s just not the same, dancing by yourself. You wouldn’t get it.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t,” Felix agreed.

Sylvain heaved a hilariously beleaguered sigh and said, “But how can the human soul be expected to thrive without music?!” He put the back of his hand to his forehead as if he might waste away from the lack of art in his life.

Felix rolled his eyes at his antics. “Damn, just put Spotify on shuffle and quit complaining, then.”

“Oh, great idea, Felix!” Sylvain whipped out his phone and leapt to his feet. And of course, what came on except Stayin’ Alive by the Beegees?

Felix raised an eyebrow. “A bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

Sylvain leaned in close and booped him on the nose. “Yes.”

“Ugh, can’t you—I dunno, pick _anything_ else?” Felix asked, disgruntled.

“Fine, fine.” Sylvain scrolled through his song library, though he was already swaying his hips to the beat of Stayin’ Alive. It was like he couldn’t resist wiggling around, the same way that an excited dog couldn’t resist wagging its tail. “How about Another One Bites the Dust?”

“Veto,” Felix said instantly. “And aren’t those two, like, the two CPR songs or something? Hard veto.” Though if he kept feeling like he couldn’t breathe…

“I think Dancing Queen also works,” Sylvain said absently as he scrolled. “Say, Felix…”

“What?”

“Do you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“You know…dancing in September?”

Felix felt heat rise in his face. Had Sylvain somehow found a way to eavesdrop on his thoughts while he’d been trying to fall asleep last night? “Uh, yes?” Felix mumbled. “You mean, like, last year? When we all went to the diner?”

Sylvain’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I—” But he had already tapped the song to select it.

September by Earth, Wind & Fire started playing, and Felix covered his face realizing he had answered a completely rhetorical question. “Oh my god.”

He peeked through his fingers to see Sylvain wearing a devilish smile and turning up the volume. “I mean, it’s the wrong season for it, but—”

“Ugh, fuck me,” Felix cried in real anguish.

Sylvain grinned wider. “Gladly."

Sylvain whirled immediately away as the music picked up and started waving his arms and prancing around the floor, ridiculous and shameless and joyful. “ _Do you remember”_ —Sylvain made a funny little face as he sang— “ _the twenty first night of September? Love was changing the minds—”_

“You look ridiculous,” Felix said.

“Hey, that just means you’re looking,” Sylvain tossed back with a pleased look over his shoulder.

“Well, you like having all eyes on you, don’t you?”

“Ha! As if you could ever look away from this!” Sylvain did a ludicrous twirl that looked—yeah, pretty fun, actually.

Felix set his face into an unimpressed expression, but he was unable to contain a huff of laughter. It was hard to be unhappy with the festive, brassy blare of the trumpet and the inherent silliness of the shaker in the background.

“ _In the key that our souls were singing—_ Come on, Felix, dance!” Sylvain pleaded. He wiggled his arms toward Felix like a jellyfish. “No one’s here to see, if that’s what you’re worried about!”

“It’s my party, I’ll dance if I want to,” Felix contended, crossing his arms to show his refusal in spite of his slight smile.

“Most people say that when they _do_ want to dance!”

“I’m not most people.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Sylvain whooped and chasséd gleefully around the kitchen island again, and something in Felix’s stomach curled tight. Something not easily dismissed.

And suddenly Felix’s hands were in the air in front of him, fingers flashing and arms moving as they signed “ _do you remember”_ and “ _dancing in September”_ and “ _never was a cloudy day”_ over the chorus like they just couldn’t help themselves.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Sylvain encouraged. He danced back over toward Felix’s chair and started doing every dance move under the sun—walking like an Egyptian, doing the sprinkler, the shopping cart, the lawn-mower—

 _“My thoughts are with you”_ —Sylvain sang the words and mimed projecting his thoughts at Felix, while Felix laughed and signed it correctly— “ _holding hands with your heart to see you...”_

Sylvain acted out the lyrics, swaying his hips the whole time, bopping around in place, and Felix laughed until his ribs hurt. He tried to sign and watch Sylvain’s stupid pantomime of a dance simultaneously, but it was a bit of a losing battle. He just barely pulled it together enough to sign the chorus when it rolled around again, drawing little waves with his hands during the _ba de ya_ parts.

Sylvain cantered another lap around the kitchen island, and then passed by the table and snatched Felix’s hands out of the air on his way, pulling Felix onto his feet. “Hey!” Felix objected, stumbling after Sylvain to avoid tripping. “I was signing something, you know!”

“Yeah, and?” Sylvain asked teasingly. “You’re always telling me to shut up! I’m just taking my turn and shutting _you_ up for once!” Sylvain started tugging his arms into a sort of shimmy—right, left, right, left. “Come on, move your feet!”

Felix looked down at their bare feet and saw Sylvain energetically stepping to one side and then the other, and somehow he wound up step-touching too, and he looked up to find Sylvain beaming at him, squeezing his hands tighter.

Felix felt short of breath again, but he somehow kept moving anyway, and apparently dancing was the most pleasant anaerobic exercise he had ever experienced—like he didn’t even need to breathe to do it. And somehow he was laughing, even though he could have sworn there was no lungs in his air—no wait, air in his lungs—

“ _Ba de ya de ya de ya,”_ Sylvain shouted in absurd falsetto, _“ba de ya de ya—_ come on, Felix!”

“No!”

“ _Ba de ya de ya de ya—”_

And Felix had no idea how, but Sylvain managed to sing for the rest of the song even though Felix himself was out of breath just from stepping side to side, his face already aching from smiling so hard. And he was almost certain that Sylvain’s billion-watt smile outshone his own smile by several orders of magnitude, like the sun outshone—outshone—

Everything. Everything else Felix could possibly think of.

When the song came to an end, Sylvain dropped his hands, still grinning fiercely. “What did you sign for the _ba de ya_ parts?” Sylvain asked, lightly panting.

“Oh I—I was just…freestyling?” Felix said, heart pounding like he’d been caught in a lie.

Sylvain’s eyes flitted to Felix’s eyes, to his hands, and back again. There was something deep and consuming in them. “Oh, Felix, I—” For no reason Felix could discern, Sylvain cut himself off by capturing Felix in a bear hug, sweeping him off the ground and spinning him in two dizzying rotations before setting him on his feet again.

“Whoa,” Felix said as Sylvain let him go. He swayed on his feet, feeling a counterintuitive, moth-to-flame sort of pull toward Sylvain, as if the only thing that could make his head stop buzzing was Sylvain spinning him again.

“Oh, sorry!” Sylvain said. “I just—” He turned his soft smile up to the ceiling. “I wish we could’ve done this sooner.”

The words made Felix freeze over. “I—I don’t—” he stuttered, heart sinking fast. “I mean, yeah. But I don’t think it could’ve happened any sooner.”

“Oh, I know that!” Sylvain said easily, as if it were nothing to be concerned about. In fact, he laughed. “I just can’t believe it took a pandemic to get you to dance.”

“I mean, it wasn’t the pandemic as much as… you,” Felix said. His heart thudded. “Like, forcing me to.”

“But the pandemic is the reason you got stuck with me, so credit where credit is due! And just when you thought you’d washed your hands of me, right? Get it? Washed your hands?”

“When a joke is good, you don’t have to explain it, typically,” Felix responded on autopilot. But his mind was still spinning, and his heart was still thumping—

Sylvain laughed. “But really, it woulda been fun. To dance in the real world.” Sylvain’s phone had started playing some other Earth, Wind & Fire song automatically, and he smiled at Felix again, but Felix found his own smile was gone.

“Well, that was definitely enough for one night,” Felix said, hitting pause on Sylvain’s phone.

“Aww, are you all danced out after one song?”

“Yes,” Felix said curtly. “I think I’m still a bit sick. I—”

“Oh no, I completely forgot!” Sylvain fretted. “I shouldn’t have made you dance when you’re sick!” At first Felix thought he was joking, but he looked completely earnest as he said it.

“No no, it’s fine, I just—I think I should try to sleep early tonight.”

“Sure. I’ll clean up out here and be there in a few minutes.”

Guilt ate at Felix as he left. Not just because Sylvain was cleaning up the dishes, but because he suspected Sylvain was giving him a few minutes to change into pajamas on purpose.

Later that night as they lay in bed in the dark, Sylvain abruptly spoke up and said, ”You're the best human-like friend I've ever had.”

Felix’s stomach tingled. He recognized it as a line from the movie earlier, though he didn’t get why Sylvain was quoting it out of the blue. “Um, I think I’m missing what this joke is about,” he said, trying to laugh it off. “I get the reference, but—”

“I’m not joking,” said Sylvain. “You really are the best human-like friend I’ve ever—” Felix kicked him in the shins under the blankets. “—okay, okay! _Human_ friend. You’re the best human friend I’ve ever had.”

The words grated against something hard in Felix’s brain. “No, I’m not.”

“What?”

“I—I’m not a good friend.”

The guilt was so nauseating that Felix really thought he might be sick. He couldn’t bring himself to say the truth. _I ran away from you for a year with no explanation._

“Sure you are!” Sylvain said with unwavering certainty. “Just accept the compliment.”

“I can’t. I _know_ I’m not a good friend.” _And so should you._

“Felix,” Sylvain said bluntly, “you’re one of the few people I can actually _talk_ to. One of the few people who believes I have a brain bigger than my dick. Hell, you’re one of the only people who believes I even have a brain—or a heart, for that matter. You put up with all my stupid bullshit, and still listen to my real shit too. I don’t have to fake a personality for you.”

“Well, yeah, of course not,” Felix said dismissively. “You have plenty of personality already.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about!” Sylvain said. “Do you know how few people would ever say that about me? I just…” Sylvain looked at him kindly. “I just really appreciate you actually seeing me as—as a whole person. And you’re also, like, fun and funny and stuff. Anyone who says you’re a stick in the mud doesn’t know you.”

Felix felt inexplicably hurt all over. “Please, just stop.”

“I’m just…thanking you for hanging out with me again? Like old times.” Sylvain sounded bewildered. “I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”

Translation: _Thanks for being the one person I don’t want to fuck_. _I’m glad we’re back to the way we were before we ever kissed._

Oh shit, oh fuck, why did that make it hurt even more?

Sylvain must have taken Felix’s silence for more refusal, because he suddenly said, “Fine, then,” sounding crestfallen and upset. “Forget I said anything, if it makes you happy. Goodnight.” He turned away from Felix and curled up on his side to sleep.

Felix couldn’t stand it. He felt a deep physical imperative to pull Sylvain to him, back-to-chest. The muscles of his arms ached with the drive to hold Sylvain’s body close to his heart and follow him into sleep. He wanted their dreams to entwine. He wanted Sylvain to turn around and hold him in return.

The thought felt like stepping off a cliff. Felix jolted with the kind of twitch that sometimes kept him awake when he was just about to drift off to sleep, and in that moment of stark wakefulness, he realized it wasn’t the first time he’d had that thought.

The gears in his mind finally clicked into place and churned out the natural conclusion: He was in love with Sylvain.

Oh. That made sense. _Finally._ It was so simple. How had it taken him so long to notice?

But what did that make him?

The answer had been there, floating back up to the surface each time he’d tried to push it under and drown it for good. Now he stopped fighting and just looked at what arose in him for the first time. And as he dared to examine the thing that had surfaced, he realized it was just the tip of an iceberg.

The churning in his stomach as he lay awake in his cabin at summer camp. His lackluster first kiss with Ingrid. A stirring in his belly when Sylvain gave him _that look_. A million other moments over the course of his life.

The pieces rearranged themselves until they all connected, like evidence strung together on a cork board. No, it was something more organic than that—a watershed of droplets all running downhill to the ocean. And when it all inevitably came together, it was obvious. He was gay, and he was in love with Sylvain, and he didn't want to bury it anymore.

_Sophomore year. Late April, 2019. The calm before the storm._

_“One last hurrah before finals start! Come on, Felix, please? You can invite whoever you want,” Sylvain begged. He didn’t have to plead for very long before Felix agreed Thursday night worked for him._

_Sylvain invited Ingrid, Annette, Dimitri, and Hilda (and by extension, Marianne and Claude). Dedue and Ashe were apparently going camping for the weekend._

_Ingrid quickly responded that she couldn’t come. (“Sorry, I have a meeting with a professor at 8 on Friday morning.”)_

_Annette asked if she could bring Mercedes. (To which Sylvain said, “Yeah, duh.”)_

_Hilda responded on behalf of herself, Marianne, and Claude by actually calling Sylvain on the phone. She apologetically explained they had “already been invited to three parties that night, though this was the hardest one to turn down. But we just can’t say no to an invitation from Ignatz, you know? He only invites people over, like, once a century.”_

_Sylvain was still waiting on a response from Dimitri. Despite being suitemates, he was surprisingly hard to track down sometimes._

_Since Ingrid, Annette, and Mercedes had already been invited, Felix’s own list was much shorter: Dorothea and Linhardt._

_“Hey Sylvain,” Felix said with a touch of humor in his voice. “Linhardt responded. He says, quote, ‘Sorry, I am already planning to spend all day and all night in bed. Winky face.’ Unquote.”_

_Sylvain guffawed and said, “What a king! Absolute mad lad. I love that kid.”_

_“Yeah, I thought you might enjoy that.”_

_Dorothea, however, did exactly what Felix had secretly known and hoped she would._

_First, she texted back, “Ooh, what fun! Can I bring my girlfriends?” Shortly after she asked, “Can Edie bring two of her friends? Hubert and Ferdinand? I think you’ve met them both before.”_

_Then it was, “Oh, you know Bernadetta, right?” soon followed by, “Never mind, she said she’d rather stay home that night.”_

_And finally, “Did you already ask Ingrid?” Dorothea sent back a single sad emoji when Felix informed her that Ingrid couldn’t come._

_Dimitri then somehow heard that Edelgard was coming and texted, (yes, texted,) “I am so very sorry, but I will have to excuse myself from tonight’s festivities. To be frank, I fear my presence would only poison the gathering’s atmosphere. Please accept my deepest apologies. Sincerely, Dimitri.” Via text. He texted this._

_That was how they ended up sitting on the floor in a ring of nine people, sandwiched between Sylvain and Felix’s twin beds. (“Excellent girl to guy ratio,” Sylvain commented in Felix’s ear while the group filtered in. The comment earned him a swift elbow to the ribs.)_

_The room lit up with the bright sounds of talk and laughter even as the sun set outside their window. The sunlight faded until they were all cast in the cozy glow of the string lights Sylvain had pinned to the wall around his bed._

_They didn’t have enough real glasses for everyone, even when they included mugs, so Sylvain dug out some clear plastic cups that Felix hadn’t even known they owned._

_Sylvain didn’t take his turn at the desk with the cups and mixers on it until about two hours after everyone had arrived. He poured himself a screwdriver in one of the plastic cups, and then bumped his cup into Felix’s with a wink as he sat back down. He raised the rim to his lips and said, “I’ve been waiting for this. Let the games begin.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of alcohol and one very small mention of suicidal ideation.
> 
> And get excited...because shit gets real in the next few chapters...


	14. kiss or slap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday, May 7th. Felix remembers the evening of Thursday, April 25th, 2019.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in the end notes!

_“Time for kiss or slap!” Sylvain announced. It was after they had all settled in and been chatting for hours, drinks in hand._

_“Everyone good with that? Okay, so, kiss or slap: The rules are like spin the bottle, except that when the bottle lands on someone, they close their eyes and the circle votes on whether the bottle-spinner slaps or kisses the, uh, bottle-spinnee. Closed fist means kiss, open hand means slap,” he said, demonstrating. He glanced around the ring of people to check that they were following._

_The circle had ended up a bit more of an oval, like a fucked-up dining room table. To Felix’s right sat Annette, with Mercedes on her other side. Then came Sylvain, then Dorothea, then Dorothea’s girlfriend Petra._

_(Felix had only met Petra once before, but the sweet international student had scored mega points in his book for being unfailingly polite. Not enough people acted like civilized human beings, if you asked Felix. Attending predominantly white institutions just inevitably did that.)_

_Next to Petra sat her other, tinier girlfriend, Edelgard, who honestly intimidated Felix a bit. As did the gaunt, dark-haired emo guy who followed her around like a shadow. Vampire-looking creep._

_Next to Hubert sat Ferdinand. Hubert, Edelgard and Ferdinand had spent a good thirty seconds silently negotiating the seating arrangements with half-aborted gestures, until Edelgard just sat next to her girlfriends and let them figure out the rest. And thus, the seat on Felix’s other side ended up occupied by Ferdinand._

_Felix had previously had one class with him. Ferdinand was such a zealously participatory student that it was impossible to forget._

_The legend went that ever since Ferdinand had witnessed Marianne shyly correct someone on her pronouns in freshman year, he had taken it upon himself to normalize announcing pronouns. Therefore, in an act of true horse girl solidarity, Ferdinand announced his name and pronouns every time that he spoke in class—for every class, every semester, all semester long. Which was very woke of him or whatever, but “I’m Ferdinand von Aegir, he/him” was practically a campus-wide meme at this point._

_Anyway. Kiss or slap._

_“You can, of course, refuse at any time,” Sylvain went on with his explanation, “if you don’t want to do the turn for any reason. No explanation necessary, bottle-spinner or bottle-spinnee alike. My one request in that case is that you take a shot of your choosing.”_

_“Aww, I hate doing shots...” Annette whined._

_“Okay then, you can have any drink of your choosing. You’ll just have to chug your rum and coke.”_

_“That I can live with.”_

_“Alright, why don’t you start us off?”_

_Annette spun the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle. It landed on Petra._

_“So, Petra, just close your eyes if you’re okay with being kissed—or slapped!—by Annette,” said Sylvain._

_Petra closed her eyes. Dorothea and Edelgard instantly voted slap, which Felix found hilarious. He joined on the slap vote, as did Hubert, and Mercedes. Ferdinand held up a contrarian closed fist. Sylvain shrugged as if to say “outvoted.”_

_Annette nervously raised her hand in preparation. “O-okay. Do I tell her what we—”_

_“No!” Sylvain excitedly shushed her as though she had almost spoiled the plot of his favorite TV show. “It’s a surprise! That’s half the fun.”_

_Annette gave Petra the gentlest slap known to humankind, basically just putting her hand quickly on Petra’s cheek. Petra waited for a second, still expecting a kiss._

_“Oh, was this it? I am okay if you hit me harder than this,” said Petra, opening her eyes._

_“O-okay,” Annette stuttered again, smiling sheepishly. Mercedes giggled. “Do I, um, have to do it again?”_

_“You can do it next time,” said Petra, having mercy on the poor girl._

_“Now it’s Petra’s turn to spin!” Sylvain announced. (Did he do the game show host voice on purpose or by accident?)_

_Petra set the bottle in motion again. It came to a stop while pointed at Hubert. “Hubert, close your eyes now,” said Petra. Hubert shifted to face her, poorly disguising a look of apprehension as he closed his eyes._

_Felix automatically voted slap, as he was a strong believer in the comedic value of slaps. To absolutely nobody’s surprise, Sylvain voted kiss, as did everyone else but Dorothea. She must have also believed in the comedic value of slaps._

_Petra leaned over Edelgard (who moved graciously out of the way) and gave Hubert a tiny peck on the lips. Hubert jolted in shock as if she had slapped him, and Felix caught a funny distraught look on Ferdinand’s face and a sly grin on Edelgard’s. Perhaps kisses had some comedic potential too._

_Sylvain chuckled. “Ok, I’ll allow it. But seriously, people! Don’t hold back. Dare to live deliciously. Hubert?” Hubert wordlessly spun the bottle, watching as it stopped between Ferdinand and Felix. He looked up, awaiting further instruction._

_“I think it’s pointing at Felix,” said Mercedes. Had anyone else said it, Felix would have thought they had it out for him._

_“What?!” Ferdinand said, sounding affronted. “It is obviously pointing at me!”_

_“Oh no, it’s definitely Felix,” piled on Dorothea, who definitely had it out for him._

_“Agreed,” added Petra._

_Sylvain prodded the bottle a centimeter over so there was no longer any doubt about it. Felix closed his eyes, bracing for—well, bracing for either, honestly._

_A hand whapped into his face, fingers striking hard on his cheekbone. Felix immediately burst into laughter, as did Annette a second later. His cheek felt warm from the impact._

_Confused, Hubert said, “But…I wasn’t holding back that much...”_

_“Oh, no, I didn’t think you were,” Felix assured him, “it’s just funny.” His face still stung, but he felt oddly giddy. He thought this might be the true meaning of the term slaphappy._

_“Felix? It’s your turn,” said Sylvain._

_“Right.” He spun the bottle and held his breath, though he wasn’t sure what for. Somehow he still managed to feel disappointed when it landed on Ferdinand._

_He looked up and met the flummoxed expression on Ferdinand’s face. Ferdinand closed his eyes, and the hands went up: majority kiss._

_“Um, yeah, no. I’ll drink,” said Felix as he stood up to pour himself a shot of tequila. Ferdinand opened his eyes and sputtered halfheartedly, like he couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or indignant._

_Edelgard and Dorothea shook with laughter. “Oh, Ferdie,” Dorothea giggled, wiping imaginary tears from the corners of her eyes. “Don’t lose hope. I’m sure that one day someone will deign to kiss you.” Ferdinand frowned, settling on indignant after all._

_Felix returned to the circle after downing his shot, grateful that no one commented on the terrible Asian flush he could already feel warming his face. (To be fair, it was his own fault. He had skipped dinner.)_

_Sylvain cracked a crooked smile and said, “Anyway, that still makes it Ferdinand’s turn.” Ferdinand spun and then sat back, petulantly crossing his arms until the bottle stilled._

_It landed on Mercedes, who very innocently asked, “Oh, is that me?” in her airy voice. She folded her glasses in her hands and closed her eyes._

_Felix held up a fist, bending his own rule. Everyone else would get a slap vote from him, but he couldn’t do that to Mercedes. In the same way that Sylvain had a bad case of punchable face syndrome, Mercedes had an absolutely unslappable face. The kiss vote was unanimous._

_Ferdinand crawled awkwardly in front of Felix and Annette to reach Mercedes. He planted an even more awkward kiss on her lips, like applying a sticky note to a wall. Mercedes giggled when he pulled away. She situated her glasses back on the bridge of her nose and kindly said, “Aww, thank you, Ferdinand!”_

_Ferdinand returned to his spot with his face bright red, which clashed horribly with his ginger hair. Edelgard reached a hand behind Hubert’s shoulders to give Ferdinand a conciliatory pat on the back. “Good try, buddy,” she said. He frowned at her, though it turned upside-down when she stuck her tongue out in response._

_Hubert joined in on the teasing, drawling, “Tell me, Ferdinand, is the kiss always supposed to be a mere peck on the lips? No tongue?”_

_Dorothea said, “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I feel like there’s actually a lot of grey area between ‘a mere peck’ and ‘kissing with tongue’…”_

_Sylvain kept the ball rolling, announcing, “Mercedes gets to spin!” She spun the bottle, and it landed on Ferdinand again. “In this situation, you have the option to re-spin,” Sylvain informed her._

_“Okay! I will, but only because I want to be fair to the people who haven’t gone yet.” God bless Mercedes. She was too good for this world._

_She spun again, this time landing on Dorothea, who went, “Ooh!” and cocked a coy eyebrow. Dorothea closed her eyes, leaning forward and puckering up expectantly._

_Felix put up a slapping hand as soon as Dorothea’s eyes shut. Mercedes didn’t deserve slaps, but she could dish them out if she wanted to, right? And maybe Dorothea deserved a little smiting._

_Petra and Edelgard each put up an open hand, which caused a cascade effect as Hubert copied Edelgard, Ferdinand followed Hubert, and finally Annette followed her agreeable people-pleasing nature. Sylvain glanced around the circle, disappointed, holding up a lone fist._

_Mercedes’ eyes widened. She gasped quietly, scandalized by their penchant for violence. Everyone immediately caved in and changed to fists._

_Mercedes looked relieved. She scooted into the circle, giving Dorothea a soft kiss. They both smiled amicably when they pulled apart, and Mercedes shyly scooted back to her position leaning against the bed._

_“Aww,” Sylvain teased. “You sure you don’t want another girlfriend, Dorothea?”_

_“I’m at capacity right now, but”—she threw a joking wink at Mercedes— “I’ll let you know if a new space opens up.”_

_Mercedes giggled, and Felix tried not to stare too pointedly at Annette, who was smiling along. Felix kept telling her to make a move, but she always insisted, “No, really, it’s okay, I really value our friendship!” Felix didn’t get what the big deal was; they were basically an item already._

_“My turn!” Dorothea reached into the circle with a devilish grin like this was a séance and she was about to summon a spirit with a bottle spin._

_The bottle landed on Edelgard, who offered Dorothea a rare sweet smile. Dorothea placed her hands on Edelgard’s resting her lap and kissed her._

_Ferdinand cried, “That is not fair! We did not get to vote!”_

_“Oh, hush, that was a freebie,” said Dorothea when she pulled away from Edelgard. “Close your eyes,” she said. The intimacy in her voice made Felix feel like he was overhearing a private conversation._

_With Edelgard’s eyes shut, Felix raised the usual slapping hand. Hubert, Petra and Ferdinand joined him, which was pretty fucking hilarious in Felix’s opinion. The rest of the circle voted kiss, but they were outnumbered._

_Sylvain resorted to puppy dog eyes and exaggeratedly mouthed, “Give the people what they want!” in Felix’s direction. Felix wavered, waffling his hand between closed fist and open palm in a move that would have gotten him disqualified from rock paper scissors. Petra cast him humoring look and flipped to a kiss vote, sealing the deal._

_Edelgard was scrunching up her face as she waited. “You don’t have to hold back,” she said, clearly anticipating a slap. Dorothea hovered a hand next to Edelgard’s face as if she were about to deliver it. She always had had a good sense for dramatic tension. Then they kissed again, and definitely for a beat longer than anyone else._

_Sylvain hesitantly said, “Uh, Edelgard’s turn,” to prompt them to wrap it up._

_Edelgard pulled away, saying, “You’re just mad I get more pussy than you,” as she spun the bottle. Sylvain wisely opted not to argue with her on this point._

_The bottle stopped on Ferdinand. “I’ll have another shot of rum,” Edelgard said calmly. Hubert really did chuckle this time._

_“It is your turn, Ferdinand,” Hubert said._

_Ferdinand spun the bottle, blushing and quietly muttering, “I know that! Why would I not know that?”_

_“I did not mean to insult your intelligence,” Hubert reassured him._

_Sylvain pulled a face at Felix from across the circle, mocking Ferdinand’s grumpy pouting. Felix stifled a laugh as Sylvain puffed his cheeks out to the proportions of a well-fed beaver._

_There was a clunk as Edelgard set her shot glass back down on the desk. “Ooh, Hubert, it’s your lucky day,” she remarked, returning in time to see the bottle stop._

_Hubert seemed fidgety as he closed his eyes and turned toward Ferdinand._

_Ferdinand’s flush intensified as the vote came up a nearly unanimous kiss, with Dorothea the lone holdout. (Felix only voted kiss because he thought it would be funny to see Hubert flinch at getting kissed again.)_

_Ferdinand swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he placed a hand on Hubert’s face (which Felix thought kinda ruined the surprise, but oh well). Ferdinand screwed his eyes shut and pressed his lips carefully to Hubert’s._

_Hubert didn’t jump this time. In fact, he seemed to actually relax into it. The two held still for a breathless moment. And was that the tip of Ferdinand’s tongue pressing against Hubert’s mouth? Alrighty then. Hubert had technically asked for it, after all._

_When Ferdinand’s lips left his, Hubert’s mouth hung the slightest bit open. Ferdinand settled back into his seat, avoiding Hubert’s eyes. Hubert blinked dumbly for a few seconds before remembering himself and closing his mouth._

_So, had everyone seen that clear as day, or…?_

_Edelgard gave Dorothea a pointed “See? I told you so” look. Dorothea crossed her arms with a sulky huff, and Felix ventured a guess that money would change hands between them later tonight. Knowing Edelgard, this was probably why she dragged Hubert and Ferdinand along in the first place._ _Not to mention, Hubert and Ferdinand would have some things to exchange later, too._

_Hubert wordlessly spun the bottle, his pallid cheekbones a bit less bloodless than usual. The bottle landed on Sylvain._

_“This could be interesting,” Sylvain remarked as he closed his eyes. Felix and Ferdinand held up matching slap hands, but Annette, Mercedes, Petra, and Edelgard held up fists for a kiss. Felix rolled his eyes—didn’t everyone universally agree it was more interesting for Sylvain to be slapped than kissed?_

_Hubert moved into the circle in front of Sylvain. He braced himself with a hand on the floor and quickly leaned down for the kiss. The dark hair that usually covered one of his eyes swept forward and obscured part of Sylvain’s face._

_Sylvain made a little “mm!” sound of surprise as their lips met. At least, Felix thought it was surprise._

_Their heights were such that Sylvain had to tilt his face up to kiss Hubert. (Felix wished in the back of his head that he were as tall as Hubert. Or just slightly taller than Sylvain. That would also suffice.)_

_When they finally pulled apart, Sylvain said, “Alright, it’s my turn,” spinning the bottle with an enthusiastic flair. Felix fixated on the bottle as it lost momentum and landed on... Dorothea. “Excellent,” said Sylvain._

_“Don’t get used to this,” Dorothea cautioned, closing her eyes._

_Sylvain’s smile turned smug as hands started to go up. (Definitely one of the least charming smiles Felix had seen on him.) Felix held his hand up for a slap._

_Ferdinand joined him on team slap, as did Petra. Edelgard and Hubert raised signs for a kiss, while Annette and Mercedes hesitated._

_“By the way, you can hit me as hard as you want,” Dorothea said during the long pause. “I can take it.”_

_With a smirk, Edelgard said, “Oh, that definitely changes my vote.” Her fist sprung open into a flat hand, poised sharply in the air like a paddle._

_“Wh—what is that supposed to mean?!” Dorothea stammered, eyes still closed._

_Four votes were enough to decide, so without looking to see if Annette and Mercedes had made up their minds, Sylvain drew back his hand and slapped Dorothea’s cheek. Hard. The vulgar noise resounded in Felix’s ears._

_“O-oh,” Dorothea said, seeming a bit dazed. Her slapped cheek flared pink. But so did the other side of her face._

_“Aww, seems like you liked that,” Edelgard said with a self-satisfied grin._

_“Oh my god, Edie, shut up—”_

_“Yeah, you should definitely incorporate that in the bedroom,” Sylvain added with a deferential nod to Edelgard._

_Edelgard cackled. “Oh, you don’t even—”_

_Dorothea scrambled to put her hands over Edelgard’s mouth as everyone laughed. Dorothea laughed too as she wrestled Edelgard playfully onto the carpeted floor._

_It was around that time that Felix noticed he had started feeling weird. Irritated._

_Dorothea finally spun once the group had settled down again. She looked up at Annette as the bottle pointed at her. With Annette’s eyes closed, the group voted: kiss._

_Dorothea obliged Annette with a very sweet kiss. Annette giggled when she pulled away, in the same way Felix had laughed when he was slapped. But for some reason, Felix now felt restless just watching. He found himself itching for his next turn._

_Annette spun and landed on Petra. Another slap vote. She ended up pulling her arm back, winding up to smack Petra’s cheek, looking very uncertain as she did so. She swung, slapping Petra hard enough to turn her head. “Sorry!” she squeaked._

_Petra smiled and shrugged it off good-naturedly. “It is okay. You are good at slapping.” She spun and landed on Sylvain. The kiss vote won, despite Dorothea’s best attempts to intimidate all of the kiss-voters (Hubert, Edelgard, Mercedes, and Annette) into submission with a glare that could cut diamonds. Felix wished that she had succeeded._

_There was something profoundly uncomfortable about watching Petra kiss Sylvain. It felt... ugly. Maybe because Petra deserved better than Sylvain? Or maybe because he knew Petra was a lesbian? In any event, it felt perverse to see their two faces tilted together, eyes closed. Felix’s mind rebelled at the heart shape their heads made together._

_Sylvain spun the bottle, and Felix realized mid-spin where he wanted it to land. The bottle, oblivious to his hopes, landed on Ferdinand. Ugh. If it had just spun a bit further—_

_Again, the group voted kiss, with Hubert, Edelgard, and Felix in the slap-vote minority. Felix again felt a twinge of—of annoyance, surely. Because Ferdinand deserved a slap, of course. Sylvain kissed Ferdinand much too kindly._

_Then Ferdinand was supposed to slap Annette, which, as a gentleman, he declined to do, getting another drink instead. Annette slapped Hubert, who reacted much less to the slap than he had reacted to his previous kisses. But Felix barely noticed, his impatience mounting with each turn._

_Hubert slapped Felix again. Felix landed on Annette and immediately said, “No. For either kissing or slapping.” Annette laughed, understanding that he liked her too much to do either. He had another shot of tequila, forgoing salt and lime, both of which tasted too strong on his tongue. The shot made warmth spill down his throat into his chest, and his stomach tingled pleasantly as he returned to the circle._

_Annette slapped Dorothea. Dorothea kissed Hubert. Hubert kissed Mercedes. Mercedes drank instead of slapping Annette (and Annette, not knowing what the vote had been, seemed disappointed by Mercedes’ refusal)._

_Annette slapped Felix gratifyingly hard. They both burst into laughter again, Annette saying, “Why do you guys want me to slap everyone? I swear, I know how to kiss, too.”_

_Edelgard grinned and said, “It’s because now we know you pack a punch.”_

_“And certain people deserve it,” Dorothea chimed in, casually looking to Felix. It was a good thing they were friends, or else they would have killed each other._

_And then it was Felix’s turn to spin again. The bottle landed on Edelgard, and Felix narrowly avoided letting out a growl of frustration. Hands went up around the circle._

_Annette: kiss._

_Mercedes: kiss._

_Sylvain: slap._

_Petra, Dorothea, Hubert, and Ferdinand: kiss, kiss, kiss, and kiss._

_Sylvain had voted slap. Felix’s stomach still felt warm with the glow of tequila in him._

_Heat rising in his cheeks, Felix swiftly pressed a firm kiss on Edelgard’s mouth. He then sat back and resumed waiting for his next turn._

_Edelgard kissed Petra. Petra slapped Ferdinand. Ferdinand kissed Sylvain for the second time, though no one else seemed to be keeping count. Just when Felix felt like he could hardly take it any more, Sylvain’s fingers were twisting the bottle into a spin again._

_As if magnetized by the force of his gaze, the bottle spun to stop with its neck pointing at Felix and with Felix looking down it like the barrel of a gun. He squeezed his eyes shut._

_For a moment there was no sound but the pounding of his heartbeat—had it always been so loud? The few seconds of silence felt like waiting for a jury to finish deliberations. Taking a long time didn’t feel like a good omen._

_“Actually, I’ll just drink,” Sylvain said, shattering the silence. Felix opened his eyes, but not in time to see anyone’s hands before they lowered them. Sylvain got up to refill his cup._

_What had they voted? Felix burned with the need to know. Slap? Or kiss?_

_The group had a good laugh at Sylvain’s expense as he slugged down a shot of vodka, but Felix just felt…disappointed. Because it was like losing the first half of his turn. Yeah. He spun the bottle and felt his heart still pounding as he waited for it to stop spinning. It pointed at Sylvain’s empty spot on the floor._

_“How mysterious,” Hubert commented. “Would you like to re-spin?”_

_“No,” Felix replied too quickly._

_Annette elbowed him teasingly and said, “Seems you won’t have to wait long for your revenge.”_

_Sylvain returned, looking much more flushed after only a bit more alcohol, and sat with a wry, “Well, well, what do we have here?”_

_Surprisingly, Sylvain placed his cup down and closed his eyes in consent. Felix had feared (feared?) that he would choose to drink again instead. Felix’s eyes darted around the circle, tallying hands as they came up: slap, kiss, kiss, kiss, slap, slap, kiss._

_He didn’t waste time thinking about who voted what. Four votes for kiss. Majority fucking rules._

_He shuffled closer to Sylvain on his knees, staring at Sylvain while Sylvain couldn’t stare back. Sylvain was sitting still, eyes squeezed shut, eyelashes fluttering almost imperceptibly. Waiting for him. He placed a hand on the floor by Sylvain’s knee to steady himself as he closed the gap between them and closed his eyes._

_His lips found Sylvain’s. It was just Sylvain’s lips against his, Felix told himself. Sylvain’s lips on his, and oh. The warmth in his chest rekindled. It couldn’t possibly be the alcohol anymore._

_Felix pulled away slowly. Reluctantly. Oh._

_“Oh,” he said, not knowing why._

_He made eye contact with Sylvain—and abruptly tried to recall how Sylvain’s lips had felt. Had they been smooth or rough? Firm or pliant? Had they been slightly parted? Moist? He couldn’t remember. He wanted to be sure._

_Sylvain was looking at him with a heavy, unreadable expression. Felix was pretty sure his own face mirrored it back perfectly._

_Felix sat back in his spot of carpet and crossed his legs, starting to bounce one of them. He was suddenly full of squirmy energy that had nowhere to go. He couldn’t focus on the game anymore, so he stared at the individual loops that made up the rug instead. He voted slap on every turn while his mind slipped away to other moments._

_Like when he had put his hand oh-so close to Sylvain’s knee. Or when Dorothea’s face had glowed with Sylvain’s handprint on it. Or when Sylvain had been the only one voting for Felix to slap Edelgard instead of kissing her—meaningless moments like that. Just zoning out. But feeling so, so, so—_

_“Felix?” He glanced up at the sound of his name and noticed Petra was speaking to him. “You are not closing your eyes.”_

_“O-okay.” He closed them, letting his field of vision go black. Against the void of his mind’s eye, he pictured the way Petra had kissed Sylvain earlier._

_He felt Petra’s lips on his, and nothing else._

_He opened his eyes again, feeling out of sorts. He thought Annette was looking at him a bit funny. When she noticed that she had caught his eye, she said, “Uh, does anyone know what time it is?”_

_Dorothea whipped her phone out of her pocket and said, “Would you look at that! It’s, like, almost 3am already. Time really flies, huh? Maybe we should be going soon?” The half of the group that had tagged along with her all voiced different versions of the same agreement._

_“I think we should get going too,” said Annette, tugging Mercedes’ sleeve._

_“Sure, Annie! I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”_

_Everyone cleaned up their stuff, placing the dirty glasses next to the bathroom sink and nesting the plastic cups in a stack on Sylvain’s desk for later recycling. Sylvain rose with them, ever the gracious host as he thanked them for coming. He sent Dorothea home with the now half-empty bottle of rum she had brought, saying, “No really, thank you, but I’m good. And Felix is more of a tequila guy, anyway.”_

_Felix alone remained seated on the carpet, leaning against the bed, feeling like his head was full of cotton. He pulled his knees up and hugged them to his chest._

_Once everyone had filtered out the door, Sylvain sat beside him on the floor. He tipped his head back to rest against the bed. “Hey, Fe, you okay?”_

_Felix snapped out of his thoughts. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just…sitting here.”_

_“Had too much to drink?”_

_“No. I only had two or three drinks.” (It had been three. And he neglected to mention that he purposefully hadn’t eaten since noon.) “But don’t worry, I’m not a lightweight like you.”_

_Sylvain looked at him nervously. “Was kiss or slap too… too much for you?”_

_“What? No, it was fun.” A genuine smile slipped past Felix’s defenses. “It was actually really fun.”_

_“Ha, I’m glad you liked it. It’s certainly one of the better party games, if you ask me.”_

_“Oh? What are the other ones?”_

_Sylvain stood up and pulled out pajamas to change into. “Hmm, I’d have to think,” he said, “but like, you know the one—oh, what’s it called? I forget the name.” Sylvain changed with his back to Felix like he always did. Felix watched him change like he never had before._

_Sylvain pulled his shirt off over his head. “It’s the one where you sit in a circle like it’s a game of telephone,” he said, kicking off his pants and tossing them into his hamper. “And the person who starts turns to the person to their right—or left, it doesn’t matter, you just pick a direction. And they whisper a question in the person’s ear, like ‘who in this room would you most want to kiss,’” —Felix’s breath caught in his throat— “or ‘who would you be most willing to steal money from,’ or whatever you want, really.”_

_For an insane moment, Felix almost replied that he would pick Sylvain for both questions. And not just because they were alone in the room._

_After Sylvain pulled on his pajama top and bottoms, he sat by Felix’s side again. “So then that person answers by naming someone in the circle,” he went on animatedly, “but no one else knows what the question is, right? Since it was whispered in their ear. So after they’ve answered, they flip a coin, and if it’s heads they have to announce to the group what the question was. If it’s tails no one ever finds out what the question was. Or wait, maybe tails is the one where you announce it...”_

_Felix was struck by how at ease Sylvain was around him. He stopped being an entertainer, a flirt, a perfect host. He was just Sylvain, his roommate who got enthusiastic about explaining things to him, who sat on the floor to talk with him at 3am. He really, really liked this Sylvain._

_Feeling feverish, Felix stood and said, “I’m gonna go put on pajamas too. Be right back.”_

_Felix always had a weird, liminal moment when he peed while drunk. A sort of drunk déjà vu. He had learned (from the mistakes of others) to pee sitting down when he had been drinking, so there was always this identical moment of sitting on the toilet, staring at the wall and trying to gauge how drunk he was._

_Tonight, the answer was “not very”. Just drunk enough to feel light on his feet and pleasantly loose-lipped. Haha, lip. What a funny word. Lip lip lip. Lips. He remembered Sylvain’s._

_He returning from the bathroom in his pajamas, joining Sylvain on the floor again. He unplugged the string lights from the outlet near the base of the bed as he sat down. “What are you doing?” asked Sylvain._

_“Turning off the lights. Why, are you afraid of the dark?”_

_“I’m more afraid of you.”_

_“As you should be.”_

_Sylvain laughed and scooted closer in the dark._

_“So this game you were talking about,” Felix resumed, “I think I’ve played it once before, but all I remember is that it actually drove me kinda crazy.” Felix always wanted to know, and never wanted to be left out from hearing the question._

_“Yeah, we all know you’re a nosy-ass bitch,” Sylvain laughed. “But I thought it was called secrets, or something like that. Or like, secrecy? Undercover? Paranoia?” Sylvain’s eyes lit up the way they always did when he was excited. Felix had seen it a million times and never fully appreciated it until just now. “Yeah, paranoia! At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s called.” Well, it certainly summed up how Felix felt about it._

_Felix couldn’t help smiling as he turned his whole body to face Sylvain, leaning his shoulder against the bed instead of his back. Especially when Sylvain turned to face him too. Was there was a medical explanation for how looking at Sylvain made him feel more drunk all over again? He didn’t often feel this silly, this carefree. This wild and incautious._

_“Yeah, it’s a good game,” Felix said. “Though it sure screwed me over. I had to fess up to saying the boar for a question that was like, ‘who is the most in need of therapy.’ God, he was so mad at me. Held it against me for a week.”_

_Sylvain chuckled and said, “Oh, I remember! And remember when Ingrid said Dimitri?”_

_“Not specifically, no.”_

_“Okay, well, I remember, since I was the one who asked the question. She didn’t have to reveal what the question was, but I’d asked who was most likely to be institutionalized. As stated previously, she also picked Dimitri.”_

_“Great minds think alike,” Felix observed. Talking to Sylvain was so effortless. Had it always been like this?_

_“I think anyone who meets Dimitri thinks alike.”_

_“Hey, wait a second,” Felix said, “I snitched on myself. You can’t just respond by spilling Ingrid’s answers instead of your own.” He wanted to hear Sylvain’s secrets, too._

_“Technically I spilled her question, not her answer. Her answer was public knowledge.”_

_“Okay, wiseass. So? What’s the worst question you’ve gotten away with?”_

_“Ah, how to choose just one?” Sylvain was smiling at him. For some reason the tingling in Felix’s stomach started acting up again. “Okay, there are two that are tied.”_

_“Alright, I’m listening.”_

_“One time, someone—I think it was Ashe, actually—asked who I would be most willing to face in a fight to the death.” He leaned in close to Felix as he said it, like he was recreating the moment when Ashe whispered it in his ear. Confusing goosebumps sprang up on Felix’s skin._

_“Oh my god, you didn’t also say the boar, right?” Felix asked._

_“Are you crazy?! No, fuck no. Dimitri would slaughter me. I picked Lorenz, because he was the guy I was most willing to kill and most likely to beat.”_

_Felix laughed. “Wow, why? Were you feeling threatened by the existence of another womanizer?”_

_“Eww, no!” Sylvain shuddered in mock disgust. “That guy is NOT competition! I simply do not vibe with him. Everything about him is rancid—his attempts to pick up girls, his takes on literature—like, I’ve had to read his writing, and it fucking sucks, dude! The convoluted flower metaphors alone make him a great candidate for murder.”_

_Felix snickered. “Also his hair.”_

_“Also his greasy fucking hair!” Sylvain chortled. “But yeah, thankfully I got to keep the question to myself. I feel like confessing to murderous intentions is going a bit far for a game. Hopefully he won’t actually challenge me to a duel.”_

_“I dunno. I wouldn’t put it past him,” Felix said. “Though Lorenz would probably bring a knife to a gun fight.”_

_“If not something even more useless,” Sylvain agreed. Felix grinned at the mental image of Sylvain just straight-up shooting Lorenz when Lorenz showed up with a quill and started claiming the pen was mightier than the sword. The faraway smile on Sylvain’s face told Felix they were on the exact same wavelength appreciating Lorenz’s hypothetical demise._

_They fell into the connected sort of silence they shared. It was so easy._

_“And what was the other one?”_

_“The other what?” asked Sylvain._

_“You said there were two worst questions. What was the other one?” Felix couldn’t help wanting to know. Or wanting to keep Sylvain talking so he could watch his mouth move._

_“Oh yeah.” Sylvain’s smile faltered for a moment so brief that Felix wondered if he imagined it. “You sure you wanna know?”_

_“If you’re asking that, then yes, I definitely do.”_

_Sylvain sighed as if Felix had cornered him into this. Felix laughed because he knew it was just for show. “Okay, well, I think this was at the party right before winter break.”_

_“Yeah, I think that’s the only time I’ve played this game.”_

_“Right. Well I was sitting next to Hilda, I think—I’m ninety-nine percent sure it was her, but she denies it now, the little troublemaker. She asked who would be the best person to spend an hour kissing.”_

_“That sounds like Hilda, alright. Lucky for you that you didn’t have to admit the question.”_

_“Yeah.” Sylvain’s smile went a bit lopsided, a little unsure. “Especially since I said you.”_

_What?_

_“Psh, yeah right,” Felix dismissed automatically. Sylvain wasn’t actually flirting with him, right? Well, he always flirted, but he wasn’t serious, right? “Is that a joke?”_

_“No.”_

_Felix’s mind raced ahead of him. He figured his face was already too flushed and the moonlight too dim for anything he said now to make any difference, so why not just say what he was thinking? “Why me? Just because you couldn’t point at yourself? That makes no sense. I’m probably a terrible kisser.”_

_“Maybe I wanted an hour to find out,” said Sylvain._

_“So I was just the only person you hadn’t made out with yet?” Yeah, that would explain it. Felix laughed under his breath. “You’re such a slut.”_

_Sylvain deflected smoothly. “Being a slut is pretty fun, you know. Maybe you should try it sometime.”_

_But Felix was distracted, seeing flashes of everyone else kissing Sylvain, Hilda or Dorothea or Ingrid facing Sylvain in his lap, or Dimitri or Hubert or Claude with Sylvain in theirs—_

_And the alternative—thinking of himself kissing Sylvain again, for longer, for real—was driving him mad. He wasn’t thinking properly. No impulse control. That must have been why he couldn’t stop himself. Why he laughed and poked Sylvain in the cheek, knowing it would provoke him._

_Why he opened his stupid mouth, already envisioning what would happen as he asked, “And? Aren’t I a terrible kisser?”_

_“I don’t know. You would have to kiss me again.”_

_It would be so easy._

_“You would have to make me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for alcohol.
> 
> (And a lot of slapping. It's fun! 10/10 game, would play again.)


	15. tipping point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday, April 26th, 2019. The night they crashed together in the early hours of the morning. This is that night.
> 
> (It's also Sunday, April 26th, 2020, a week before Felix crashed back into Sylvain's life. The night when Sylvain spent the early hours of the morning reflecting on what happened after kiss or slap exactly a year before.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major content warnings in the end notes! If you know me in real life, you MUST check the end notes.

_To call this "a plan" would be attributing far more conscious intentionality to Sylvain than he had put into it. It was more of a half-formed idea, a mere daydream that he’d somehow ended up bringing to life._

_But he had to admit, it was all going according to plan._

_It had started with the many times when Sylvain had told Felix about playing spin the bottle at a party. He'd noticed Felix giving him a look that he could only describe as “heated,” and annoyingly, he had no way of figuring out what it meant. Was that disdain burning in Felix’s eyes? Sylvain wished he could remember the difference between envy and jealousy, because he was pretty sure one of them was in there too._

_And whatever the weird energy was that flowed between them, surely Felix was aware of it too. Felix might have been an uptight, nervy little bitch, but Sylvain still thought he deserved a chance to act on it._

_So this time, Felix had gotten to play. Sylvain had made sure of that._

_Sure, kiss or slap was a fun game in and of itself, especially with a fun group of friends. But truthfully, deep down, Sylvain had suggested it because the half-formed idea of kissing Felix had been brewing on the back-burner of his mind long enough to gain potency. Now he wanted to see what Felix was willing to do, how far he was willing to go. Felix just needed a nudge in the right direction. Was that manipulative? He hoped not._

_And yes, Sylvain had kissed guys before. That was just the nature of games like spin the bottle and truth or dare. To kiss girls, you kissed some guys along the way, too. Honestly, it felt about the same either way. Lips were just lips, and kissing them just made Sylvain feel pleasantly nervous, or maybe a little turned on if someone was a particularly good kisser. Felix was almost certainly not a good kisser. Kissing him had felt exciting anyway._

_And yeah, maybe Sylvain had even participated in a circle jerk or two in high school. Who hadn’t? He was man enough to not really let the answer concern him. He liked girls, so it didn’t really matter how he felt about guys. Dating was all just fun and games anyway. Just physical pleasure. It was all the same if he closed his eyes._

_But there was just something so… so irresistibly hot and fucked up and kinky about the idea of messing around with his best guy friend. He just wanted to make out a little. Maybe get a bit handsy._

_And now that his best guy friend, the subject of the fantasy, was Felix in particular—Felix, with his nasty attitude and long hair, tight ass and keen eyes, foul mouth and long legs and pretty face—the idea was even more enticing. He kinda couldn’t stop thinking about it._

_Maybe Felix would be cute and virginal, all breathy moans and pillow princess delicacy. Or maybe he would be the pent-up type, ready to reenact every fucked up fantasy he’d ever had. Sylvain wondered just what those fantasies might be. He wanted to know what Felix thought about when he was alone. He wanted to know the sounds Felix made when he was touched. He wanted to know the face Felix made when he came._

_So yes, in summary: even without any girls around to watch, he wanted to kiss Felix again. He told himself it was simple curiosity and left it at that._

_It happened after everyone else had left, as they were left sitting on the floor in their pajamas. They had originally been sitting side by side, with their backs leaning against the base of Felix’s bed, but as the night went on, they gradually turned in toward each other, laughing at each other’s jokes and leaning in conspiratorially. It was the closest Sylvain had ever come to understanding the joyful innocence and veiled eroticism that pubescent girls seemed to feel about sleepovers._

_He didn’t remember exactly how it came about in the end. He was recounting some story about a party game where he had done something embarrassing, or said something suggestive, and he somehow let slip that he’d been wondering about kissing Felix, to which Felix laughed and said, “You’re such a slut.”_

_It secretly thrilled Sylvain that Felix always insulted him on the basis of how much sex he had. Because that meant Felix was always thinking about how much sex he had._

_“Being a slut is pretty fun, you know,” he responded. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”_

_Felix laughed again. What a cute laugh. Felix reached up and prodded (or maybe flicked?) Sylvain’s cheek with his finger. “And? Aren’t I a terrible kisser?”_

_“I don’t know. You would have to kiss me again.”_

_Felix met his gaze—with sharp eyes, and proud jaw, and a dark rose flush that wasn’t from the alcohol—and said, “You would have to make me.”_

_(Sylvain had gone over this conversation a thousand times in the past year and come up with a half-dozen different explanations:_

_“Make me” wasn’t a particularly coherent answer in response to his words._  
_“Make me” was just Felix’s version of an automatic comeback, like “your mom”._  
_“Make me” was just an ill-considered joke._  
_“Make me” was just Felix asking for a fight, not for... whatever happened next._

_And so on and so forth. But—)_

_To Sylvain’s tired, tipsy, horny mind, “make me” was exactly the sign he had been waiting for: an undeniable invitation, a challenge, the culmination of the tension that had been building between them. Like maybe Felix also couldn’t bear to ignore it anymore, like maybe the kiss was still buzzing on his lips the way it was on Sylvain’s._

_And (he could never be sure he remembered this clearly, but) as he leaned in, he could’ve sworn Felix leaned in too._

_Their lips crashed together. Sylvain’s mouth messily met Felix’s, which was already open and moving against him. Felix kissed him back with a rabid hunger, roughly nipping Sylvain’s lips one minute and trying to suck on his tongue the next. Sylvain gripped Felix’s waist tight in his hands. It felt as hot and fucked up as he’d imagined._

_Felix grabbed Sylvain’s face in both hands, as if he feared Sylvain would escape or evaporate mid-kiss. Felix kissed like he talked, ruthless and biting and like he wanted to get it over with. His teeth scraped gratingly across Sylvain’s and sent a brief nails-on-chalkboard sound screeching through his skull. If Sylvain hadn’t already known Felix wasn’t very practiced at kissing, he might have guessed from the way Felix was kissing that he was way more drunk than he actually was. But he did know Felix. (At least he thought he did.)_

_So even as he could faintly taste the lingering alcohol in Felix’s saliva, Sylvain kissed him back gently, patiently, trying to lull him to calmness and convince him to slow his frantic pace. He was confident that he had the technique to get Felix mewling and breathing heavy if he could just get Felix to calm down enough to feel the kiss instead of fighting it._

_He rubbed his fingertips in what he hoped were soothing circles on Felix’s back through his shirt while they kissed. And with each kiss, he tried to say without words, “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”_

_Because girls always ate that shit right up. It made no difference whether he meant it or not._

_He continued planting soft kisses—with no tongue and no teeth—on Felix’s mouth, until Felix had calmed and fallen into rhythm with him. Until every part of Felix that had been rigid gradually relaxed into his arms. Until he had started to like the slow kisses, too._

_Wait, what?_

_Felix’s mouth just…fit so nicely on his. His lips were warm and soft, softer than Sylvain had had any reason to expect before tonight. They were just as chapped as they looked, of course—Felix was constantly biting them, pulling off little bits of skin with his teeth—but once he’d gotten a taste during kiss or slap, Sylvain had discovered that Felix’s lips were like clouds, like heaven’s gate. He wanted to keep kissing Felix forever. Start a new life in this mouth._

_Jesus Christ, what the fuck was going on with him tonight?_

_Sylvain’s control softened a little more as Felix sweetly, so sweetly, kissed him on the lips. And on the chin, and at the corners of his lips where dimples would appear if he had any. He kissed Sylvain on the nose, and on the center of his lips again, like he was trying the locations out and comparing results. Usually no one bothered to kiss Sylvain anywhere but right on the mouth._

_He felt Felix eventually release his face from between his hands in favor of wrapping his arms around Sylvain’s neck. Sylvain wrapped his arms tighter around Felix’s back, feeling like his heart might explode from sheer adoration. This moment. This boy in his arms. This was something transformational._

_(He tried to tell himself that it was because he was drunk that he felt that way, but even then he knew he wasn’t very drunk at all. He was just tipsy and moonstruck and tingly with desire.)_

_Sylvain couldn’t help but hold him a little closer and sigh against his cheek. “Oh, Felix,” he murmured. It felt wonderful just to say Felix’s name. Felix kissed the side of his face near his ear in response, sending blissful chills cascading down his back. Sylvain felt his shoulders relax before he realized they had ever been tense. Then Felix kissed him on the mouth again, and this time Sylvain allowed himself to get swept up in it._

_Usually he was somewhere else in his head by now, but tonight it was like awareness was inescapable, and he didn’t know why. And he didn’t want to escape it._

_It was ridiculous how much kissing Felix turned him on. Sylvain thought it should be impossible for mouths to feel so much. What was the evolutionary advantage of making kissing feel so good that he never wanted to do anything else again? The reward system in his brain must have been broken to allow him to feel like this. He would happily starve to death to keep kissing Felix forever._

_Kissing Felix made Sylvain understand why people compared kissing to fireworks and lightning and the shifting of tectonic plates. Sylvain had kissed a lot of people, but this felt entirely different. It felt like he was meant to be here. Like kissing Felix was his place in the world._

_Then one of them must have done something to deepen the kiss, because Sylvain found himself responding to Felix, nipping gently at the shy tip of his tongue and sucking Felix’s lower lip into his mouth. Felix made a little sound in his throat that Sylvain wished he could play on repeat._

_Oh, if only he really had planned this. Maybe then he could have found some way to record it._

_Without breaking the kiss, Felix withdrew his arms from around Sylvain’s neck—which made Sylvain’s heart sink—before Felix wrapped them around him again, this time holding the small of his back. And that made Sylvain’s insides fucking melt._

_He felt his whole body respond as one of Felix’s hands fell to the side of his hip, bashfully tugging at him. It was the most innocently that someone had asked for his touch in years. Heart-rate picking up, he obeyed the request and scooted closer, turning further onto his side—_

_Felix tucked the hand under his thigh, lightly squeezing the underside and tugging at Sylvain to come closer again, gently urging him to continue his momentum, to throw one leg over both of Felix’s and straddle him._

_Breaking the kiss, Sylvain instantly gave in to the unspoken invitation and rolled the rest of the way onto Felix’s lap, his breathing accelerating beyond his control. God, Felix was just driving him crazy. He was this adorable mix of demanding and shy that turned Sylvain into putty._

_Felix’s hands ran up and down his sides, ardently feeling the shape of him, from his hips to the sensitive sides of his ribs. Sylvain leaned down and kissed Felix again, almost overwhelmed by how incredible it felt to have Felix kissing him, Felix wanting him, Felix touching him like he was something precious._

_The sentimental feeling swelled in his chest, like he could nearly cry just thinking about it. He had never, ever, felt that way before._

_Felix’s hands moved inward to touch Sylvain’s stomach and traveled slowly upward, just taking in every inch of him through his shirt. Felix’s hands tickled slightly as they slid over the sides of his chest near his armpits before coming together again in the center of his chest, thumbs meeting in the middle to glide down his sternum and then rub back up again. The friction of clothing dragging over his skin gave Sylvain chills in the most comfortable way._

_Little gasps started escaping him when Felix thumbed over his nipples._

_“You can—oh, oh—”_

_He lost his train of thought, panting and boneless with pleasure._

_“—take it off me.”_

_Felix met his gaze and then began to slide his shirt up along his sides._

_Sylvain lifted his arms over his head and ducked his head forward to allow Felix to remove it entirely before straightening up again. Felix’s arms found their way back around his torso and drew him closer to kiss again._

_With the added heat of Felix’s hands on his bare skin—in addition to Felix’s mouth on his and Felix’s tongue rubbing his—Sylvain felt like he might really lose himself and melt into Felix at any second. He wanted to._

_The way Felix was touching him, so curious and tentative, made Sylvain feel oddly…childish. In the carefree, excitable way. Felix’s touch made him feel innocent again._

_(He didn’t even think about the scar on his back at the time. Felix’s warm fingers were right there, holding him, and he forgot all about it.)_

_Sylvain broke from the kiss momentarily to press his forehead to Felix’s. A faint spider-web strand of saliva stretched between them, breaking into nothing as it stretched in the air. He tried to memorize everything about this moment. It just felt so right. So perfect. “I just can’t resist you,” Sylvain breathed before guiding their mouths back together._

_When they next broke the kiss to breathe, Felix turned his attention to Sylvain’s jaw and throat, starting by carefully placing small pecks on Sylvain’s skin. Sylvain shivered pleasurably and said, “Ah, Fe, that feels really nice.”_

_Felix began to press open mouthed kisses on his shoulder, experimentally swiping his tongue across Sylvain’s skin. Sylvain moaned quietly. Felix must have found both the taste and the sound acceptable, because he did it again._

_He moved his ministrations to the side of Sylvain’s neck, kissing from his collarbone to just under his ear. He gave Sylvain’s earlobe an inquisitive nip before continuing back down. When Felix reached the midpoint of the slope of his neck, he mouthed at the spot twice, before latching on in earnest and sucking lightly._

_“Ah! Felix—” Sylvain panted and let his head tip back when Felix sucked harder. The bursts of suction were broken up by moments of probative pressure from Felix’s tongue, which massaged the spot in an utterly unpredictable sequence. It was messy, and squirmy, and strange, and Sylvain found it utterly dizzying._

_Felix drew back and exhaled a humid breath against the wet spot on his skin, and then returned his mouth to the same spot for more suckling when Sylvain whimpered at the loss. Felix gripped a little harder with his teeth this time, and the sensation went straight to Sylvain’s groin._

_As it turned out, the complete lack of a plan for this encounter ended up being the most thrilling and terrifying part of it. Sure, Sylvain had fantasized about it, but there was no way he could have imagined the incredible sensitivity that Felix awoke in him. There was nothing rehearsed about the way Felix explored his body, nothing scripted about the moans that flowed out of Sylvain in response. Every movement felt organic and instinctual and emergent._

_It was so freeing. To have no blueprint, no expectations of where they were going, only pursuing pleasure wherever it led. Sylvain never would have predicted how much and how far he wanted to venture into this uncharted territory._

_He’d had sex before, of course, but from the very beginning of his sexual career, he had gone into it thinking he already knew how to do everything. And no one had ever told him otherwise, not even his first time. He had competently kissed and licked and fondled and fucked just like he was supposed to. And that had been fun. Kind of. It had been fun and icky and sordid._

_But this wasn’t like that at all. Not a single one of his previous experiences—including the ones ending in an orgasm for him—felt as good or natural or satisfying as right now, as this: Felix discovering his body and making him rediscover it, too. Felix’s eager mouth as it learned how best to kiss and suck and bite him. Felix’s curious hands as they moved from his hips to his thighs._

_First Felix ran his hands up and down the tops of Sylvain’s thighs. Then he changed course to stroke specifically the softer flesh on the insides of Sylvain’s legs, thumbs running along the seam of his pajama pants. Felix gripped the wide muscles of his quadriceps, and the squeeze of his fingertips made Sylvain groan. The pressure of Felix’s fingers through the soft fabric was better than Sylvain could have expected._

_Sylvain’s heart raced. He was already hard, but now he was also hyperaware of how close Felix was to touching the tented front of his pants. There was no way Felix hadn’t noticed by now._

_Then Felix’s thumbs were skimming the surface of his pajamas all the way up his inner thighs, converging on either side of the throbbing between his legs. Felix must have felt the edges of Sylvain’s underwear through the fabric, because he paused with his thumbs on the crease where Sylvain’s thighs met his pelvis, and—_

_Felix fucking pressed._

_“Ah, Felix! Felix—oh fuck—please—” Sylvain whimpered and rolled his hips helplessly. He’d had no idea he was so sensitive there until Felix suddenly pressed his thumbs down and had him writhing. (Or maybe it had nothing to do with the spot and everything to do with Felix.)_

_It was like a switch had been flipped. Suddenly Sylvain couldn’t bear to have Felix’s hands anywhere else but where he needed them most. He rose up a bit on his knees, desperate for something—anything—to happen. “Please, Felix, please,” he chanted, not even sure what he was pleading for. “Fuck—come on, Felix, please! I need it—”_

_Felix understood. He pulled Sylvain back down in place on his lap, one hand firmly clutching Sylvain’s hip while the other moved to touch his aching erection through his clothes. Felix aligned his hand along the underside, the heel of his hand pressing against the tip while his fingers stroked down between Sylvain’s legs at the very base of his cock, fingertips at his balls._

_Sylvain cried out, attempting to rock up into Felix’s hand. He felt the tips of his ears burn bright red at the realization that he was already creating a visible damp spot through two layers of clothing, but he was past the point of restraint. He dove headlong into what he knew were dangerous waters. “Can I touch myself?” He had to do something to appease the aching pressure._

_Felix nodded once, and Sylvain reached a hand down, planning to shove it into his pants and take over for Felix. But Felix didn’t remove his hand from Sylvain’s crotch, and Sylvain wasn’t about to let anything come between Felix and his dick, not even his own hand. So he rolled with it._

_His hand landed on top of Felix’s as Felix groped his bulge. Sylvain couldn’t resist interlacing their fingers together and pressing Felix’s hand against him more firmly. “Ah, Felix—” He tried to rut into the tantalizing friction, but Felix held him still with the hand on his hip. “Please! Please just fucking touch me, I—” Felix pulled down his pajama bottoms and boxers so his cock could spring free._

_Then Felix’s hand was wrapped around him. Sylvain’s brain couldn’t process fast enough to take it all in, to commit every detail to memory the way he wanted to, but suddenly Felix was everywhere, biting Sylvain’s neck, breathing hotly near his ear, running his hand up the wet underside of his cock, rubbing his palm over the tip before grinding his thumb into the slit. Sylvain bit back a whine at all the slick sensation. No additional lubrication was necessary; Sylvain was positively dribbling precome onto Felix’s fingers._

_That was how Sylvain knew, when Felix pulled his hand away and licked his own already wet palm, that the purpose of the action wasn’t to wet it, but to taste it._

_Felix’s slow-blinking eyes glinted slyly as he made eye contact with Sylvain. The whine Sylvain had been holding back came out embarrassingly high-pitched._

_Felix returned to stroking Sylvain’s cock. Sylvain could hear himself moaning, and moaning so loud that at any other time he would have been embarrassed, or least felt sorry for anyone who might overhear them. Like Ingrid and Dimitri, who were probably both asleep just one room over. But Felix made him stupid horny, and in his current state, Sylvain didn’t have the mental capacity to think about anyone else. Everything in him was too busy chanting, “Felix, Felix, yes, fuck yes, please, like that, ah—” Oh. He was moaning that too._

_Felix’s hand started off frantic, much like his kissing had, but he seemed to pay attention to Sylvain’s reactions. Soon he was moving torturously slow, velvety hand twisting as he pumped Sylvain up to the tip and down to the base, over and over._

_Felix lingered long enough for Sylvain to be hyperaware of every motion, and continued steadily enough to keep the momentum building within Sylvain’s core. It was just how Sylvain wanted it, though he never asked for it that way. Because what kind of guy ever said “slower, softer, sweeter, I want to savor it”?_

_Each slow stroke pulled a prolonged groan from him. His hips were still pinned to Felix’s lap, leaving him utterly at Felix’s mercy. He couldn’t have done anything to make it go faster even if he’d wanted to. The idea of being under Felix’s thumb, literally and figuratively, was doing things to Sylvain. Almost as much as the rest of Felix’s hand was._

_He couldn’t contain a heavy moan: “So good, Fe, you feel so good. Don’t fucking stop.” It was delicious, erotic agony to let Felix take his time with him, wringing sounds out of Sylvain that he hadn’t known he was capable of making. Even the sound of his own voice was turning him on more._

_Sylvain fought to keep his eyes open and his sight in focus, because the sight of the glistening tip of his cock emerging again and again as it speared through Felix’s fist was mesmerizing. God, if he didn’t already have a fetish for Felix’s hands, he sure would after this. The image of Felix’s deliberate, beautiful fingers massaging his glans was fantastically dirty._

_But coming in at the top of the “best things I’ve ever seen” list was Felix’s face, with the pretty little widow’s peak that made his face into a heart shape. It had been so open, so earnest as they kissed._

_It was currently hidden, though—pressed into Sylvain’s neck while Felix’s mouth was occupied with sucking a deep bruise on the same spot as earlier. The placement was high enough on Sylvain’s neck that he knew nothing but a turtleneck would cover it. Not that Sylvain owned any turtlenecks. Or would ever want to hide this._

_And with how hard Felix was biting down, it was bound to be the kind of hickey with teeth marks, the kind that even concealer couldn’t conceal. The thought of wearing proof of Felix’s hot little mouth on his neck made Sylvain shudder. He felt the orgasm building in him, burning hot, just out of reach._

_But back to Felix’s stunning face: Felix’s eyes were closed as he navigated Sylvain’s body on touch and sound and taste alone—which just made it all the more amazing that he was giving Sylvain the best fucking handjob he had ever received without even looking at what he was doing._

_Sylvain panted as he abruptly felt his inevitable orgasm drawing nearer. Too fast—he didn’t want this to end. He gasped out, “Fe, please—” and suddenly realized what he was begging for. “Kiss me, Felix, please kiss me again, I—” Felix’s mouth surged up and found his again, overlapping their lips and tongues, hot and slippery and firm._

_Felix released his grip on Sylvain’s hip and moved the hand to the small of Sylvain’s back._ _Felix used the leverage to pull him in closer, leaving barely enough space between them for his other hand to keep working Sylvain’s cock._

_Suddenly finding himself free to move again, Sylvain bucked his hips helplessly into Felix’s hand. His clothed knees burned as they slid on the carpeted floor, his legs spreading wider to accommodate Felix’s hips between them. And Sylvain didn’t care. Not one bit. He would take all the injuries from this that he could get._

_The tingling pressure pooling in his core urged him closer and closer to Felix, until the tip of his cock was rubbing into Felix’s shirt with each thrust. Sylvain could feel Felix’s erection pressing up underneath him—and fuck, he wanted to ride Felix so bad. Wanted to ride him for real, feel him inside. Another time, Sylvain consoled himself._

_With a shocked gasp, he pulled away from sloppily kissing Felix just in time to tip his head back and cry out, “Shit—Felix, ah, I’m really close, wanna come—”_

_Felix’s voice was a growl against his jaw. “Then do it already.”_

_Sylvain had never been able to come on command before, but he did. Effortlessly._

_It only took a few more seconds of Felix’s hand on him before his mind went blank. He dug his nails into Felix’s shoulders as the floodgates opened inside him, sending tingling heat coursing through him. He curled forward, his face bowing toward Felix’s, pressing their foreheads together as he came._

_He thrust once, twice more in Felix’s hand, the tip of his cock bumping Felix’s abs through his shirt as Sylvain came in three distinct waves that felt like three orgasms in one. His come painted Felix’s shirt and fingers and then spilled onto the front of his pants. Sylvain panted and shuddered in the aftershocks, feeling every muscle in his body clench and relax in pleasurable ripples. He was still in Felix’s lap as Felix eased his grip around his softening length._

_When vision returned to him, Sylvain saw Felix was breathing heavily too, and staring down at where their bodies met in awe. Or realization. Like he was waking up from a trance and seeing something earth-shattering._

_“That was so good,” Sylvain babbled thoughtlessly, “so good, Felix—” He abruptly remembered feeling Felix’s erection underneath him. He wanted to make Felix come too._

_He released his vice grip on Felix’s shoulders and cupped his face, kissing him tenderly on the forehead. He tucked himself back into his underwear and pajama pants. “Let me take care of you, too?” he asked, already moving back off of Felix’s lap as he strategized how to get Felix’s dick in his mouth the fastest. “I’ll clean you up.”_

_Felix was still panting, looking at him with a dumbfounded expression as he said, “Sylvain, I—”_

_“No worries, I’ve got you.” Sylvain reached for Felix’s wrist and guided it to his mouth to lick the come off Felix’s hand._

_“You don’t have to,” said Felix, sounding panicked._

_“No, really, I want to,” Sylvain assured him._

_“Sylvain—” Felix’s voice was urgent as Sylvain moved to sucking a line of come off the fabric of his shirt. “Sylvain, stop.”_

_Sylvain instantly pulled away. Felix was biting his lip harder than ever. “Felix? What’s wrong?” Sylvain asked, truly concerned by Felix’s reaction. The wide-eyed expression on Felix’s face clearly wasn’t lust as he shoved Sylvain further back from him by the shoulders._

_Sylvain’s heart plummeted. The look dawning on Felix’s face wasn’t awe. It was horror._

_“Felix?” Sylvain asked again, starting to panic as well. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Please talk to me.”_

_“Get away from me. Just—please, just get off of me.” Felix wasn’t meeting his eyes._

_Sylvain scrambled back from Felix on the floor until his back was against the side of his own bed. “Felix, I’m so sorry, do you want me to—”_

_“Just shut up,” Felix said. And it wasn’t in his usual apathetic tone, it was derisive. His upper lip curled, cinched up on one side. He looked angry. No, disgusted. “Just leave me alone.” Felix stood up. “This was a mistake.”_

_Sylvain averted his eyes so fast, it was like the words had physically struck him in the face. He didn’t watch as he heard Felix yank open a drawer of his dresser. He flinched when Felix slammed the bathroom door. The shower turned on a second later._

_Oh man. Oh shit oh fuck oh god. What had he just done? Holy fuck, this was so unbelievably bad._

_And for once, he wasn’t thinking about possible consequences or his own panic—Sylvain wasn’t paying attention to how he felt at all. He was completely numb, haunted by the horrified expression on Felix’s face, wondering what Felix must be feeling as he stood in the shower and what he had done to cause it._

_In a daze, Sylvain changed into clean pajamas. He dumped his body into bed and curled in on himself under his blankets in the center of the mattress, blood running cold. His brain wouldn’t stop replaying what had happened, but it wasn’t titillating at all. It was agonizing._

_He was running through everything he had done, every word he had said—and he realized that the entire time, while he had been telling Felix what to do and how to touch him, Felix had barely said anything at all._

_How long had Felix been wanting to stop? His heart constricted painfully with each beat. He didn’t mean to—he couldn’t have—his best friend? It was too horrible to think about. The guilt felt like burning alive._

_How could this happen? Sex was a weapon he only used on himself. So how was it that now, the one time it had felt different, he had somehow managed to turn the blade around and hurt Felix with it instead?_

_He lay there in silence for countless minutes, looking in the near complete darkness at his own reprehensible hands, hands that had felt the entire S-curve of Felix’s back, that had clung tightly to Felix’s shoulders like they were his anchor in the ocean—_

_He wanted so badly to cut them off just so he wouldn’t have to look at them anymore._

_Felix took quite a long shower. Which was unusual. Felix usually tried not to waste water._

_Or maybe Felix took a short shower like always, and it only seemed to last for hours because every second Felix was gone was another second Sylvain was left with his own thoughts._

_Eventually Sylvain heard the quiet squeak of the bathroom door swinging open. He could almost make out the chink of light being let into the room through his closed eyelids. The door clicked shut again._ _Then Felix must have walked through the room like a ghost, because the next sound Sylvain heard was the rustling of sheets from Felix’s bed._

_Sylvain squeezed his eyes shut. He already knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep before sunrise._

* * *

_April 26, 2020 at 3:32 AM_

_it’s been a year since that night, but i still think about it. and i have so much time to think about it now._

_i think about it in conjunction with a quotation i once read. i think it goes something like, “the things we love, we mention.” if that’s true, my friends must think i don’t love you anymore._

_but my therapist must think i love you more than anyone in the world. or at least, more than anyone but my brother._

_isn’t that interesting? it’s almost funny in a way; i’ve recounted every terrible moment with my brother in excruciating detail and never cried once. it got easier with every session. i can talk about miklan and go numb._

_but the very first time i told my therapist about you, i cried like a baby._

_i wept. i wept about missing you, about what a fucked up, ruined person i am, about how much i hated myself for driving away the person i cared about the most, not realizing it until it was too late._

_and i cried, wondering how you could be gone and i could be there and everything about you still moved me to tears. i cried, fearing i had accidentally, invisibly marked you the way my brother purposefully, visibly marked me._

_and i fucking sobbed, not understanding how i could love you, and never want to hurt you, and still secretly want to do what i had done to you again._

_i cried until the session ended, and even then i couldn’t stop, which i took as further proof of my horrible feelings and weak body, or my strong body and horrible self-control. i confessed that i had been avoiding mirrors, and windows, and other people’s eyes, because i saw my brother in my reflection._

_“how am i supposed to fix it?” i asked. “how can i ever ask him to forgive me? i’ve doomed us forever.”_

_“if he wants you to fix it, he’ll let you know,” my therapist said. “he has to want to fix it, too. until then, all you can do is work on forgiving yourself. you deserve forgiveness.” i didn’t believe her._

_“the only thing you did,” she said, “was not know what he didn’t tell you. and he is as much to blame for that as you are.”_

_she let me stay late, and read poetry to me until i had pulled myself back together again._

_but oh, mary oliver. what if i want to walk on my knees through the desert repenting? is that wrong of me? to still want one person, across all of time, across any distance, no matter how vast?_

_am i supposed to drag my heart back into my body kicking and screaming, when all it wants to do is claw its way home or die trying?_

_that night was the push i needed, though. in the year since, i’ve been learning and healing and changing myself. i’ve built healthy boundaries around myself._

_without you, i never would have heard that poem. or rather, it was because i was without you that i had something worth trying to heal for._

_but i still miss you, still want you, still want to call you late at night and ask if we can try again. and now my boundaries feel like walls of impenetrably sound logic, keeping me from you. all i want is for you to break through them and make me crazy again._

_you undo me, felix. but, oh, how i love to come undone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for explicit sexual content, consent issues, referenced past abuse and alcohol. And just generally being the chapter where this fic earns its E rating. The smut and angst have arrived.
> 
> If you know me irl, you can:  
> 1\. skip this chapter and ask me for a summary  
> 2\. read until someone's shirt comes off, then command+F "Just shut up" and read from there, or  
> 3\. secretly read it in its entirety, promise to never speak to me about it, and pretend to do 1 or 2


	16. waking dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday, May 8th. Felix comes to terms with his realization and sleeps at odd hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight content warnings in the end notes!

Felix awoke to light flashing red through his eyelids and an alarm blaring in his mind.

Or…not in his mind. It seemed to be originating from outside of his mind, actually, because it sure as fuck was hurting his ears.

Disoriented, he twisted about in the sheets for a moment, first trying to bury his head in the pillow, then thinking better of it and kicking his legs free of the sheets. He rolled to check his phone. 4:07am. He groaned and miserably hauled himself out of bed. The repetitive screech of the alarm set his body into motion simply because of how badly he wanted to escape it.

A fire alarm. He tried not to get panicky, though the combined stimuli made his head feel like it was full of bees. He unplugged his phone, deeply grateful that his (well, Sylvain’s) pajama pants had pockets. He then rounded the bed to poke the sleeping lump on the other side.

“Sylvain,” he said. No response. “Sylvain.” Sylvain stirred, batted him away, and then stilled again.

How the hell was he sleeping through this? Felix would have to ask him later if sleeping was a skill one could acquire later in life.

For now, he grabbed Sylvain’s forearm with both hands and twisted sharply in opposite directions, knowing the burning sensation of his skin would wake Sylvain up. He had done this for fire drills in the dorms countless times before. (One could even say that he…knew the drill?)

Sylvain woke with a groan and grumbled something unintelligible as Felix sharply said, “Sylvain, wake up. The fire alarm is going off.”

“Don’t wanna…”

“ _Sylvain_. The building could actually be on fire.”

“’S fine,” Sylvain slurred, “I’m going to hell sooner or later.” He tried to cover his head with his pillow.

“Not on my watch." Felix threw the pillow onto the floor and dragged him out of bed. "Get your mask and put on your shoes,” he ordered. “You can go to hell later.”

Sylvain allowed Felix to lead him down the spiraling flights of stairs with a bracing arm around his waist. It was a wise choice on Sylvain’s part, since he definitely would have stumbled and cracked his head open without Felix’s help.

“Hey, hey Felix, Felix, listen,” Sylvain said, suddenly urgent when they were halfway down the twelve flights of stairs. “I was having a dream where I had five eyes and was made of pizza.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I was made of pizza and had more eyes and no mouth,” Sylvain said. “And also my arms were spaghetti.”

“That—okay, one: that is really disturbing, and two: that doesn’t answer my question. If anything, it raises more questions. Like, as an example, what the actual hell and fuck?”

Sylvain sighed as he continued bumbling limply down the stairs and finally out the door into the brisk night air. “No, no, no,” he said patiently, as if explaining to a misinformed child. “It wasn’t disturbing, it was _inspiring_. Like, you know! Palms sweaty. Arms spaghetti.” Felix felt more lost the more Sylvain explained. “And I think Ashe was there, and wearing a wizard hat. And Ignatz was there too? We were in, like, a pit in the ground…”

They went to stand across the street while people continued spilling out of the stairwell and dispersing as much as possible. Once they had stopped moving, Sylvain closed his eyes, clearly trying to remember something. He drew a nonsensical shape in the air with his hands. “I think… I think Caspar put us in the pit. And then he also fell in.”

Felix struggled not to laugh in his face. “I don’t think you’re fully awake yet.”

Sylvain whined from behind his mask and flung himself into a dip that Felix was not at all prepared to execute, nearly pulling them both to the ground in the process. “I don’t wanna be awake,” Sylvain said dramatically, “I wanna be pizza! A white pizza, with the yummy garlic sauce.” He leaned heavily on Felix, who tried to coax him into leaning against the wall instead. Sylvain could not be budged. “Don’t you like pizza?” he asked, batting his eyelashes.

“Uh, sure, but that doesn’t mean I want to _be_ one.”

“Oh, but I wasn’t _one_ pizza, I was _multiple_ pizzas. So you should like me even more, right?”

“I like you better the way you are.” Felix had meant for it to sound gruff but didn’t quite succeed. Half-asleep Sylvain (okay, majority-asleep Sylvain) was just on a whole different plane of lovable. Felix covered his slip-of-the-tongue by saying, “Wait, was Caspar that guy in your postmodern lit class last year?”

“Nah, he was in the war novels class. I don’t know if he can read books without pictures, though…? I think he only signed up for it because he likes war. Which is pretty funny.”

“He _likes war_? Why is that funny?”

Sylvain _giggled_ , which just gave Felix another reason to love sleepy Sylvain. “Uh, because he’s dating Linhardt, the peace studies major? At least he was when I had class with him. I think they went to high school together.”

“That’s fucking news to me,” Felix said. “I knew Linhardt had questionable taste, but that’s just appalling.”

“They’ve been dating on and off for like, years! Damn, do you cut ties with all your previous roommates?” Sylvain said. It was a joke, but Felix felt terrible about it. “And—oh hey, Felix, guess what?” He tugged excitedly at Felix’s sleeve.

While Felix might have previously found it annoying, now he found it pretty fucking cute. Maybe those were two sides of the same coin he had only been looking at one side of.

“Yes, Sylvain? What is it?”

Sylvain just blinked at him for a moment before continuing. “I had an epiphany. Well, Ashe told me in the dream.”

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

“Life…is like a charred marshmallow. And you’re making s’mores.”

“Bro, what? I’d literally love to hear an explanation.”

Sylvain sighed. “Actually, never mind. If you don’t get it, you’re not meant to know. I refuse to elaborate at this time.”

Entertained in spite of himself, Felix chuckled and said, “That’s fine. I’m still trying to figure out why you had a dream where you were pizza in a pit with the three manlets in your life.”

Sylvain stared wide-eyed at the ground. “I—I didn’t even realize. I was surrounded by short kings and I didn’t even notice.” He sounded dismayed with himself for the oversight.

When the building was cleared for them to go back in, Felix asked, “Stairs now, or wait for the elevator?”

“Stairs.”

So he dragged Sylvain toward the stairwell to begin the ascent. Sylvain dragged his feet the whole way.

After walking up two flights of stairs, Sylvain slumped against the railing with an incredible sense of melodrama and said, “Felix. Why are there so many stairs.”

“Uh, because you live on the twelfth floor?”

Sylvain blinked with starry-eyed innocence. “Then why are we taking the stairs?”

“I asked you. ‘Stairs or elevator.’ You said stairs.”

“Ohhhhh,” Sylvain said. “I thought you said, ‘Stairs or _escalator_.’ And this building doesn’t have an escalator, so I knew that couldn’t be the right answer.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Okay, would you rather _not_ take the stairs the rest of the way?”

“No!” Sylvain said quickly, his eyes wide like Felix had just offered to pour boiling water on him. “I told you! There is no escalator!”

Felix sighed and decided it was better to walk up twelve flights of stairs than argue with adorable sleepwalking, sleeptalking Sylvain.

After several more flights of stairs, Sylvain piped up, “Hey Felix. I had a thought.”

“Yeah, you seem to have lots of them nowadays.”

“This one is serious,” Sylvain said. Felix nodded for him to go ahead as they trudged up to the eighth floor. (Wow, 66% of the way there.)

“Okay, so get this: Why is the word ‘cocksucker’ a thing that people say…” Sylvain said, pausing for effect, “…when we could all say peckerpecker instead?! Eh? Pretty good, right?”

It took Felix a second to process. It was quite an evocative term. “That sure is a thought, alright,” he said mildly. He definitely didn’t picture Sylvain kissing his dick or anything.

When they got back to Sylvain’s apartment, Felix demanded the keys from Sylvain and then pushed open the door to let them in. He had to basically drag Sylvain through the hallway—not because Sylvain was resisting, but because Sylvain simply refused to exert any more energy after their slow climb.

Felix dropped him onto the bed, shouldering Sylvain off from clinging to his back, and then tried to pull the covers to be on top of Sylvain instead of under him. Sylvain fell back asleep instantly where Felix had deposited him, spread-eagle so he took up most of the bed. The sight squeezed another little bubble of affection from Felix’s heart.

Felix walked around the bed to crawl back under the covers on his own side. Once he was laying down again, he stayed utterly still, fearing that he would fall if he moved even an inch.

He would fall to the floor if he rolled to his left, and if he rolled to his right, he risked brushing against Sylvain and tumbling right through the bed, and the floor, and the earth, into some dark hungry pit in himself where he would be tormented with thoughts of intimacy and daring.

No, it was better to be paralyzed on his side of the bed, shrinking into himself to pull away from the dangers on either side of him. He lay still and listened to Sylvain’s slow breathing.

In the end, he wasn’t able to fall back asleep. Waking up early fucking sucked for someone with sleep-onset insomnia.

So he got up, still in pajamas, and made himself tea, and set up the coffee machine, and watched the sun rise through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

There was something bittersweet about it. If someone had told him a week ago that he would be in Sylvain’s apartment watching the sun rise, feeling a little lonely and wishing that Sylvain was awake to watch it with him, he would have—

Hmm. What would he have done? Realize he was in love with Sylvain a little sooner? Probably not.

He rose once the sun was in the sky to get cereal and milk for breakfast. Maybe he would get back in bed afterward. He wanted to be back by Sylvain’s side already.

That was when Sylvain peeked out of the bedroom, startling Felix by exclaiming, “Fe! You’re here!” and looking equally startled himself.

“Of course I’m here,” Felix said, perplexed. “Where else would I be?”

“Oh. I dunno! Never mind.” Sylvain joined him in the kitchen area. He beamed as Felix turned on the coffee machine and shoved a bowl and spoon his way.

Felix felt a bright glow in him from seeing that smile. If he had any doubts after last night, they paled in comparison.

Yet he kept second-guessing it, for some reason. He kept looking at different parts of Sylvain and interrogating himself, watching his own internal reactions. It was totally normal to be checking out his best friend, right? Just in a hypothetical way.

Wait, no, maybe that was not very heterosexual of him. But surely it was a truth universally acknowledged that Sylvain had a charming laugh, and pretty eyelashes, and a gorgeous physicality to him that—

Fuck, he was doing it again. Oops. Maybe that really had been gay all along. He tried not to stare too obviously as Sylvain ate his cereal.

So, could he imagine seeing Sylvain naked? His mind said yes. To be fair, he could have already seen Sylvain naked a bunch of times if he hadn’t looked away every time Sylvain changed clothes. Sylvain wasn’t shy about his body the way Felix was.

Could he imagine touching Sylvain? Yes. They already touched all the time in other ways. Felix’s hands were already prone to ruffling Sylvain’s hair, already used to pushing him around, punching him, poking him—maybe he should stop. Or just touch him more kindly.

But it wasn’t like he was _purposefully_ remembering Sylvain kneeling over his lap, powerful thighs split open around Felix’s hips as Felix moved his hand between them—yeah, okay, he was imagining it again.

Could he imagine wanting to kiss Sylvain? Yes. He watched Sylvain’s lips move, and he didn’t have to imagine it. He did want to kiss Sylvain. Those lips were so ripe with opportunity.

What would Sylvain do if Felix grabbed the spoon out of his mouth and kissed him right now? Would he like being taken by surprise? Or would he want Felix to pause a centimeter from his mouth and make him close the gap before they kissed? What would he do if Felix drew his tongue into his mouth and touched it with his own? Would he make those cute sounds again?

Fuck. Felix had never wanted to jump someone’s bones so bad. (Well, he had never consciously wanted to jump anyone’s bones before, period. But the point still stood.)

“Yo, Felix, anyone in there?”

“What?” Too late, Felix realized Sylvain had been saying something to him and noticed he wasn’t listening. “Yeah. I’m just tired from this morning. I couldn’t fall back asleep after the fire alarm.”

Sylvain looked skeptical. “What fire alarm?”

“Oh my god, do you seriously not remember? There was a fire alarm at like 4am! I had to drag you bodily out of the building!” Felix said, exasperated. “Awfully convenient that you don’t remember me hauling you back up _twelve flights of stairs_.”

“Well you’re one to talk about having a selective memory!” Sylvain burst out—before clamping his mouth shut.

Oh, too true.

“Why did you think I’m up so early?” Felix asked. “I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Dude, go take a nap! I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you look like shit." Great. Just what he wanted to hear from the guy he apparently had a crush on.

So Felix sighed, finished his cereal and got back in bed. Which was a good idea, because being gay was already fucking exhausting.

He was tired, but the memory that came to him as he tried to sleep was a conflicted one.

_Sophomore year. The day after kiss or slap. When he went looking for answers he wasn’t ready for._

_Sylvain was nowhere to be found when Felix woke up in the morning. Felix had no idea where Sylvain would have gone, but at least it was one less thing to have to deal with right now._

_He needed to know if yesterday had been a fluke. He just needed to kiss someone else. His brain landed on Hilda. She was an undeniably cute girl, right? And she was in an open relationship, and she was a good friend to him, and she loved keeping other peoples’ secrets, and she loved kissing, so she was probably a good kisser—in short, all signs pointed to yes, logically speaking._

_And “yes” was her response when he asked. “Why don’t you come by my room around 3pm?” she texted back._

_Felix’s mind tore at itself while he shifted his weight from foot to foot outside Hilda’s door. His hand hovered, ready to knock promptly at 3pm._

_(He must be gay; why else would he have showed up early, nervous for a scheduled appointment to make out with a hot female friend? No wait, that didn’t make any sense, right? He must be straight, then; why else would he have showed up early, nervous for a scheduled appointment to make out with a hot female friend?)_

_He stared at his phone, watching 2:58 become 2:59. And at exactly 3pm, he slid his phone back into his pocket and knocked on the door._

_Hilda greeted him with a warm, “Hey, Felix!” as she pulled him inside. “So, how was your thing yesterday?”_

_“My—my what?”_

_“The party? The one Sylvain invited me and Claude and Marianne to? I’m assuming it still happened without us…?”_

_“Oh. Right. It was, uh, normal.”_

_“Ah, right,” she said understandingly, “you’re not really big on parties, huh?” She gestured at her bed, clearly inviting Felix to take a seat on it._

_But Felix stood, feeling tense. He was painfully awkward, almost hostile as he said, “So how do you want to do this?”_

_Hilda threw the question back at him in her usual cutesy voice. “I dunno! How do you want to do this, Felix?” Playful. It sounded obnoxious in Felix’s mind. So he just kissed her, wanting this all to be over with._

_Hilda’s hands were infuriatingly gentle on his shoulders. Her lips were objectively very nice—smooth, soft, tasty and glossy with something sticky and watermelon-flavored. But they didn’t move against his the way he wanted. Something was missing. It didn’t feel like it had when—no. It just didn’t feel like they were communicating anything between them._

_His hands stayed firmly on her arms, which, though they were bare, seemed like the safest place to touch. He kissed her back mechanically, moving his lips repetitively in the ways that had worked before, scanning himself for a reaction. Nothing. Nothing in his body wanted anything more from this._

_Eventually Hilda pulled away and said, “Felix, you’re clearly not into this. What’s bothering you?”_

_Frustrated that he was so easy to read, Felix said, “Nothing,” spitting the word out so spitefully that he realized how cruel he sounded. He sucked in a breath and tried to look apologetic. Hilda was doing him a favor._

_He tried again. “Sorry, I just mean that it’s nothing to worry about. It’s just…” How was he supposed to tell her that he was comparing her to Sylvain? “I had…an encounter, when I was…a little tipsy. This was a few days ago—maybe a week,” he added to help obscure the timeline._

_Then the words spewed out of him in a rush. “And now I—I think there’s something wrong with me, because I hadn’t ever felt that way before—” His chest tightened. “O-or since.” Saying it out loud made it feel irrevocably real._

_Hilda regarded him kindly. “Have you…still been seeing the person you had this…encounter with?” she asked (mirroring his own language back at him, Felix couldn’t help but notice.)_

_“No,” he said. The back of his throat seemed to seal up as soon as he got the word out. He certainly hadn’t. And wouldn’t. Not like that._

_“Oh,” said Hilda. “So maybe it’s not an issue of being drunk or not, then.”_

_Felix couldn’t find the words to respond._

_Hilda gave him a moment, and then spoke again. “You know, I once had a friend in high school who was, like, absolutely stunning—just drop dead gorgeous—and I was just starting to think I might be attracted to girls at the time, so I kinda pursued her. But she was a horrible friend to me. Like, truly awful. So I came away from the experience thinking that no, I must just be straight, because I tried kissing a beautiful girl and it didn’t work for me. But the problem wasn’t the gender, it was the person. And I only figured that out when I met Marianne.”_

_“Okay.” Felix stared at his balled up hands in his lap. “But it isn’t like that for me. I’m not—I’m not gay.” It was fine if other people were, but surely not him. He didn’t—he couldn’t—_

_“I’m not saying you are,” Hilda said quietly. Felix realized he had said it too loud, overcompensating for how badly he had wanted to not say it at all._

“ _I just mean,” Hilda went on, “that you’re kissing me now because there’s some question you want to answer. But you already know you’re not attracted to me, and it’s precisely because you’re not really interested in me that I’m a safe person for you to kiss and try to figure it out with.”_

_Felix opened his mouth to respond, but Hilda quickly added, “And I’m fine with that! I’m glad I can be that safe person for you. But now you’re asking yourself why you aren’t enjoying kissing me, aren’t you? But that’s the premise of the whole experiment. It’s a forgone conclusion. The answer is already in the question. So I’m guessing that isn’t really the right question, is it?”_

_Felix was about one inch away from crying on her shoulder, and she could tell. She hugged him, and it felt ten times more human and natural than kissing her had. “You’ll be okay, Felix. You will.”_

_“You’re a really good friend, Hilda. Better than I deserve.”_

_“Don’t you ever say that to me again!” she scolded him sternly. “I’m happy to be your friend. And you know me, I’m just happy to kiss my friends at any time.” She extricated herself from Felix’s arms and patted his hair fondly. “You’ll be okay,” she said again. “Sometimes it’s just hard to realize something is right when it means everything else has been wrong.”_

_Felix nodded as he tried to blink back the—nothing. Nothing. It wasn’t there if he didn’t acknowledge it._

_“Can I ask you for one more favor?” he asked._

_“Sure, hon, you can certainly ask!” She seemed surprised by the steadiness of his voice, or maybe by the fact that for the second time in one day, he was asking for what he needed._

_“Can you... can you not tell people about this?”_

_Her gaze softened. “Of course I can do that. Phew! I was afraid you would ask me for something more… labor-intensive. This will stay between you and me, okay?”_

_“I didn’t mean—you can tell Claude. Or Marianne, or whoever. If you want.”_

_“Aww, thanks. But I really am allowed to kiss whoever I want, you know. I don’t have to tell them if you’d rather keep it on the low. And there’s something fun about sharing an experience no one else knows about, isn’t there? This can be our little secret.” She jokingly winked at him, and he couldn’t help but crack a smile. She really was a good friend. Far better than him._

_“Thanks. I—I think I should go.”_

_She rose from the bed and said, “I can walk you back to your dorm if you want.”_

_“That’s okay, I’ll be fine. But thank you, Hilda. Really.” He stepped over the threshold into the hallway._

_“Yeah, I think you deserve some space after the therapizing I just put you through.” She paused by the door and gave him a hopeful smile. “Good luck, Felix,” she said before gently closing the door._

_When he returned to his room, Sylvain was there, reading on his bed. Felix’s eyes went immediately to the mark on Sylvain’s neck. The sight of the blotchy red oval of skin made Felix feel hot and restless all over. He automatically ducked his head and disguised the knee-jerk reaction as looking at the ground while he kicked off his shoes._

_Sylvain lowered the book and cheerfully said, “Hey, Felix! How are you feeling after last night?”_

_Of all the questions to ask, he had to ask the one that Felix couldn’t even answer for himself._

_“I’m fine,” Felix said, trying and failing not to panic. “Kiss or slap was fun.” He hoped that would stop Sylvain’s interrogation._

_It didn’t. “You were pretty drunk, huh?” Sylvain said with a chuckle._

_“Yep. It’s all kind of a blur,” Felix lied._

_Sylvain seemed a little concerned at that. “Oh. I…” He didn’t seem to know where to go from there. “But you… you remember that we kissed, right?”_

_Felix felt like he was about to throw up. “Yeah, during kiss or slap,” he said, committing to the lie. “It was pretty funny.”_

_“Haha, yeah. It was pretty funny, huh?” Sylvain laughed, as though that was good enough to assuage his worries. As if he was relieved to just let it go._

_So it was just a drunken bit of fun after all._

_That was... a relief. Really, it was Felix’s fault for worrying about it. He should have remembered that Sylvain was always drunker than he looked and never cared who he who was kissing._

_Yes, it was much better for both of them that it meant nothing._

_(Some horrible fledgling creature in Felix’s chest whispered that he should have known.)_

_Felix forced a small laugh of his own and said, “I’m gonna shower now,” not knowing how else to escape the room and the clammy, shaky, nauseous feeling rising in him like bile._

_He must have been mistaken, then. He must not have liked it. Otherwise why would thinking back on it now make him feel physically ill?_

_Because it was disgusting. Because it must have been wrong._

_This felt a thousand times worse than kissing Ingrid, and it was a relief. He would never do this again._

_Felix knew he had showered only twelve hours previously, but it didn’t matter. Even as he showered for the second time that day, he couldn’t get the sticky feeling off his skin. He should have known. He should have known. He should have known._

He woke up to Sylvain touching his shoulder.

“—Felix? I think you might wanna get up. It’s time for dinner.”

“What?” Felix blinked his eyes open in confusion.

“It seemed like you needed the sleep, so I didn’t wanna wake you, but—”

Sylvain was so close, leaning over him with a warm hand on his shoulder. Felix was desperately grateful to see him. He wanted to pull Sylvain into bed on top of him. His heart pounded in his ears as if he was actually considering it.

“Sorry,” he said, apologizing for a thought Sylvain wasn’t even aware of.

“Oh no, you’re fine! I just thought you might want dinner. I made chicken chili.”

“Thanks,” Felix said, inexplicably emotional, “that sounds great.”

Sylvain gave him a funny look as he withdrew his hand. “Who are you and what did you do with Felix?” he asked jokingly.

“What, I can’t say thank you?”

“You can, but you usually don’t.”

Felix would have to change that.

He followed Sylvain back to the kitchen, noticing that Sylvain must have snuck into the room and changed out of pajamas at some point when he was asleep—okay, he was just looking at Sylvain’s ass in his jeans.

It was like his brain was suddenly rewiring itself away from all the exhausting circumlocution he had forced it to do. Now every neural pathway was allowed to lead directly to Rome, if Rome was a giant flashing neon sign that said, “boys! boys! boys!”

And the fact that he hadn’t known he was gay until today? Laughable! Fucking hilarious! The thought that just 24 hours ago, he had considered himself… well, not _straight_ per se, but anything other than gay—it was now the funniest joke in the world.

Like, seriously, why the fuck had he thought that imagining Sylvain with other guys freaked him out so much? Had he really believed it was possible to be homophobic against just one person? And that person happened to be his best friend, who he’d made out with? Jesus Christ.

Now he was homophobic against Sylvain for a whole different reason, and it was because it was terrifying how gay for him he was.

“Oops, I forgot to set the table…” Sylvain put a hand to the back of his neck, adorably sheepish.

“No worries, I’ve got you,” Felix said automatically. And then felt dizzy at his own choice of words.

“ _And_ I forgot to chop the green onion for garnish!” Sylvain berated himself.

“Jeez, Sylvain, it’s fine! You made dinner.”

“I’ll just—I’ll do it now—” Sylvain rushed around the kitchen like there was a time limit.

Felix laughed fondly as Sylvain almost whacked into him with a cutting board. “Oh my god, don’t hurt yourself.”

“Why, because that’s your job?” Sylvain tossed him a wink.

It was so cute that Felix felt physically choked up, like his heart was expanding so much that it was putting pressure on his windpipe. For a second he couldn’t breathe.

Would it get easier with practice? Or did gay people feel this much _every single day?_ If so, shout out to gay people. He wasn’t sure how he would endure even one more day of Sylvain being so fucking cute. He might not have had this little sexual awakening if he had known it meant constantly wanting to slip Sylvain the tongue. But if he actually got to slip Sylvain the tongue—

Damn, was there truly no off switch for this? Was he just supposed to walk around exposed like a livewire with this…volatile _feeling_ all bottled-up inside him, so close to the surface? All the time? For every waking minute of the rest of his life? That was insane. That was crazy, and stupid, and amazing. He kinda couldn’t wait.

Felix found himself pausing with the silverware in his hands, captivated by the exposed unmarked skin of Sylvain’s neck as Sylvain turned his head to the side to look at him—

“Shit!” Sylvain swore as he cut his finger. He raised the finger to his mouth, licked it, and then closed his lips around the pad of his finger and sucked.

Oh. Sylvain with fingers in his mouth.

Never mind. Being in love was the worst thing that had ever happened to Felix, and he had done it to himself.

 _Come on, Felix, focus!_ He snapped back into reality. “Go sit down,” he ordered, steering Sylvain to the couch while he went to retrieve the stupid first aid kit.

He ignored Sylvain repeatedly protesting, “It’s fine! That’s not necessary! It’s just a little cut—”

He _wanted_ to help. _Needed_ to. He suddenly had all this extra caring inside him, and it wanted to get out by any means necessary. He felt like if he didn’t slap some neosporin and a fucking bandaid on this finger, right the fuck now, he would end up confessing to Sylvain that he had beautiful eyes by the end of the night. (Or maybe he could suck on Sylvain’s finger for him—)

Having retrieved the necessary supplies in a daze, he returned and knelt in front of Sylvain where he sat on the couch. Because it just felt _right_. “I told you not to hurt toward yourself,” he scolded as he grabbed Sylvain’s hand. “Please at least make a minimal effort to keep your blood inside your body. I really don’t want to see it.”

He finished smoothing down the ends of the bandaid around Sylvain’s finger and looked up to find Sylvain looking at him like he was crazy. Maybe he was.

Because seriously, those eyes were really something. Felix finally understood what it meant to have butterflies in his stomach. The _good_ butterflies that everyone talked about, not the “I think I might hurl” jitters that he had previously known.

He quickly stood up, feeling his face burn. “Okay. Dinner.” Sylvain seemed amused by his mortification.

Felix had hoped that after the brief reprieve of the nap, he might stop feeling so much every time he looked at Sylvain, but it was no use. As soon as they were back in the kitchen, he started wanting to ruffle Sylvain’s hair, or kiss his hands, or just go in for a hug for absolutely no reason.

It made him quite anxious, actually. Pretending that everything was normal while they ate was an enormous effort, and he was so high-strung that he didn’t even know what he would do if he relaxed even an inch. He feared what he might do uninhibited.

But what if the inhibitions themselves were useless? Why _shouldn’t_ he show Sylvain some affection? Maybe inhibitions were just things meant to be overcome.

“Hey Sylvain,” he said slowly, “we still have some whiskey left, right?”

Sylvain looked intrigued. “Uh, sure! But haven’t you slept enough for today?”

“I’ll admit I tend to sleep for a long time after drinking, but that doesn’t mean I sleep _well_. So this nap was the perfect preparation, really.”

“Oh, that is such a lie!” Sylvain playfully accused as he went and got the whiskey anyway. “You sleep like you’re dead to the world after drinking.”

“And you sleep you’re dead to the world all the time,” Felix said. “Today proved it. I think I deserve to sleep equally soundly every once in a while.”

“True.” Sylvain’s mouth turned up in a sweet smile as he served them both. Felix’s stomach ached at the sight of it. Felix sipped his whiskey and laughed while Sylvain knocked his back like a shot.

“Oh,” Sylvain said, “remember that time Dimitri and Ingrid pushed their beds together and all four of us got on it and had an impromptu party? And you and Ingrid, sleepy drunks that you are, somehow managed to outlast me and Dimitri.”

Felix grinned at the memory. “You mean the night I fell asleep with a drink in my hand and spilled it on Ingrid? How could I possibly forget?”

“I honestly wasn’t sure if you’d remember!” Sylvain laughed. “It was probably the drunkest I’d ever seen you.”

Ha. Felix had never gotten drunk to the point of throwing up, or even to the point of having a hangover. “Okay, yeah, that probably _is_ the drunkest I’ve been. I woke up the next morning still drunk—”

“Yeah, we could tell.” Sylvain looked smug as he refilled their glasses.

“—but I still remember!” Felix insisted. “I’ve certainly never reached the point of blacking out.”

He realized his mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Sylvain cocked his head. “You haven’t?”

“I mean—not that I would remember if I had,” Felix backpedaled. “I guess I wouldn’t know if I had blacked out—but I don’t _think_ I’ve ever blacked out.”

What a terrible lie. He wished he could black out right now so he wouldn’t have to experience the aftermath of being so fucking stupid.

Sylvain just looked… concerned.

Felix downed his second drink and pretended not to notice. “Yeah, Ingrid was so mad the next day. I remember waking up to her panicking because she thought she had either pissed herself or sweat an entire puddle during the night. And then she was freaking out because it smelled fruity, and telling me that she was suddenly diabetic because her pee was sweet—one of the most confusing mornings of my life.”

It seemed his distraction worked. Seemingly entertained, Sylvain said, “Poor Ingrid! It could’ve been anyone in the splash zone, but alas, she was the one who chose to sit next to you. Actually, maybe that was lucky for you.” He gave Felix a look.

Felix smiled at knowing exactly what Sylvain was referring to. “Haha, no. I feel like the boar would sooner apologize to me than beat me up if I spilled a drink on him. Otherwise he would just be proving me right about him being a fucking rabid animal.”

“Yeah, that, plus Dimitri probably doesn’t understand what blood glucose levels are. And I’m not sure he has a sense of smell, so he probably would’ve thought he’d pissed himself in the normal, non-sugary way. Oh my god, he’s the only suitemate you haven’t spilled a drink on yet!”

“But you’re the only one I spilled a drink on intentionally.”

Felix hadn’t meant to say that.

“Um, I’ll be right back—”

“Noooo, Felix! Don’t break the seal!” Sylvain cried in mock dismay.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Felix always had a weird, liminal moment when he peed while drunk. A sort of drunk déjà vu. There was always this identical moment of sitting on the toilet, staring at the wall and trying to gauge how drunk he was.

Today the answer was…uhhhhh…something. Felix was still working on it.

Except this time wasn’t identical to the others. He was looking at the sink in Sylvain’s apartment, with just their two toothbrushes on it. No Ingrid or Dimitri to share the bathroom with.

It was the same sink that he had almost thrown up into after seeing Sylvain taking off his shirt. And now he was gay. Felix nearly laughed at the irony of it.

He washed his hands and let his eyes go unfocused, because that was fun and silly. He also looked in the mirror, and—damn! He looked cute as hell! His skin was flawless, his eyes were brown and sexy, his hair was dark and soft—how could anyone possibly _not_ want this? He was too distracted by his own sudden burst of confidence to make sense of how his vision lagged a second behind when he shifted his gaze to the floor.

So he decided. He had kissed Sylvain before. Now he was going to do it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for alcohol and mentions of vomiting. (And lowkey internalized homophobia?)
> 
> (Also, to the person who wrote a comment on the last chapter and asked me not to approve it: I understand. I had a similar experience, and it was really difficult, but ultimately I'm okay, and I hope you're okay too. Thank you for reading, and I'm glad it resonated with you.)


	17. stalemate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday, May 8th - Saturday, May 9th. Sylvain can't understand Felix's reasoning and goes grocery shopping the next day for some fresh air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight content warning in the end notes!

The quiet sound of Felix’s footsteps alerted Sylvain as Felix returned from the bathroom.

“Hey, Fe, did you want seconds—” Sylvain turned around from the stove to see Felix had paused next to the kitchen island, leaning with one forearm braced against the wall by his head.

“Hey,” Felix said.

“Uh, hi,” Sylvain laughed, a little spaced out. “So, seconds?”

“Oh. Um, no thanks. I’ll just…” Felix suddenly dropped the arm against the wall and sat in his seat at the dining table.

Sylvain left his half finished glass of whiskey on the counter and returned to his own seat across from Felix. He resumed eating. “So about tomorrow,” he prompted, “I was thinking—”

Felix’s foot touched his under the table. Sylvain tried not to visibly react. The sensation itself did nothing for him, but the _idea_ of it, of a secretive touch under the table, sent Sylvain’s mind reeling. He stayed utterly still, waiting for Felix’s foot to move away again. But it didn’t. Felix’s toes moved forward over his own, and oh shit oh fuck—

Okay, maybe the touch did do something for him after all. A terrible tingling started up in the pit of Sylvain’s stomach.

He tried to pull his mind back to the present and suddenly realized Felix was staring at him and blinking like crazy. “Um, are you okay?” he asked. “Is there something in your eye?”

“Oh. No.” Felix abruptly stopped blinking. He then proceeded to stare at Sylvain (completely unblinking) for an unnerving amount of time.

Sylvain wasn’t sure if they were suddenly having a staring contest, so he stared back just in case. While not unwelcome, making eye contact with Felix for that long was certainly a bit weird, simply because of how incredibly out of character it was for Felix. But his eyes were so pretty. So striking and willful and—

Felix’s toes pressed down on his, and Sylvain abruptly realized that too much more of this would absolutely make his dick rise. He pulled his foot back an inch, out from under Felix’s. Felix made no sign that he noticed as Sylvain’s foot moved out of contact with his.

So that was a relief. Or a disappointment. Sylvain couldn’t decide which.

“Your shirt,” Felix said abruptly, shaking Sylvain from his thoughts. “Wh…where did you get it?”

Sylvain glanced down at his shirt. It was a white t-shirt, completely plain apart from the words _Abercrombie & Fitch_ written across the chest. “Uh, Abercrombie and Fitch, apparently?” Sylvain chuckled, a little bemused. “Why do you ask? Don’t tell me _you_ can’t read? After all the time you spent mocking me—”

“I can read! It just—” Felix’s eyes darted around like he was looking for an escape route. “I meant to—it looks like—um, comfy.”

“Really? It’s a little tight on me.” Sylvain plucked the front of the shirt away from his chest to demonstrate how little wiggle room there was. “You can try it on if you want. I’d be willing to give it to you if you want it.”

He looked up to find Felix staring off into the middle distance like he wanted to dissolve. “Um. Okay,” Felix said. He blinked for a second. “Wait, actually, no. Biceps—I mean, _because_ —” Felix looked incredibly flustered. “You know what? Never mind. Thank you, but no thank you.”

Sylvain grinned. God, it was fun to be less drunk than Felix for once. He wanted Felix to ruffle his hair again. Too bad he couldn’t pour another shot in Felix’s mouth. He would never have let Felix get this drunk around him on purpose.

But then how could it feel this wholesome to see Felix drunk when it was so inherently unequal? It was a dangerous thought.

“Sylvain,” Felix said, looking dead serious. He enunciated as if he were giving Sylvain an agreed upon code phrase and begging him to recognize it. “You are the person I would be most willing to steal money from. Among…other things.”

Sylvain raised his eyebrows, concerned. “Am—am I being threatened? If you need to borrow money, you can just ask. And if this is one of your death threats…it’s a little on the vague side. You might want to workshop it a bit before bringing it to market.”

“No, I—” Felix seemed to give up on words, throwing a hand up to his eyes. “Fuck, this is impossible!” he groaned.

“What? Speaking coherently?”

“Oh, fuck you.” Felix closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead, looking like he was thinking hard and hilariously frustrated about it.

Sylvain chuckled at the expression on Felix’s stupid cute face. “Dude, I have no idea where your head is at right now, but—”

“You really don’t,” Felix said in a clearly audible whisper. And then clapped a hand over his mouth. “Shit, did I say that outside of my head?”

Sylvain felt a grin stretching across his face. “Bro. You’re talking absolute nonsense. Just pure gibberish. You are so drunk that it’s _hilarious_. Or is this just what happens when you get a normal, human amount of sleep?”

Felix’s face was growing pinker by the minute. “I’m not as think as you drunk I—wait. Fuck.” He buried his face in his hands. “I’m really drunk, aren’t I?”

Sylvain cackled. “God, this is funny as fuck! Seriously though, are you good? I literally can’t tell if you’re having fun or being tortured right now.”

“Ugh, shut up! I’m gun!” Felix insisted. “I mean— _it’s_ gun— I mean, good. And fun. Two separate words. Fucking—” He collapsed into some kind of garbled sound that Sylvain would likely have transcribed as “gleghbefudgelguh” if forced to put it into letters.

Sylvain couldn’t stop laughing, though he felt a bit bad when Felix put his head down on the table like he might start either weeping or screaming at any moment. “Oh my fucking god,” Felix snapped, voice muffled by his arms, “stop making fun of me! I can’t help it!”

“Aww, does baby need to go sleep already?”

“I—no! I don’t know!” Felix said, disconsolate. “How long does drunk gonna last?!”

Sylvain grinned in fiendish delight—

Felix’s foot touched his under the table again. All of Sylvain’s amusement went straight down the drain.

He knew Felix’s legs were long, but damn, seriously? Did Felix seriously stretch them out under the table this much and he had never noticed? Could Felix’s feet really have been doing this all along and they just had never happened to collide with his own before now? Felix was usually so conscious of where he put his body—

So Felix must have been very drunk indeed to not notice that he was currently rubbing his big toe back and forth along the side of Sylvain’s foot. This didn’t feel so wholesome anymore.

The ball of his foot slid right along the outer side of Sylvain’s foot, from pinky toe to heel, until the whole side of his foot was pressed against Sylvain’s, bony and warm, though slightly cooler to the touch than Sylvain’s own. The friction of their skin scraping together sent shivers through Sylvain.

But it was confusing as hell. This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? Yet he had no fucking clue what to do with it once he had it. Because Felix wasn’t—couldn’t be—flirting, right? Like, no. Obviously not. Right? For once, Sylvain realized he was out of his depth. He was an expert at the verbal sort of flirting, not the physical kind.

Sylvain was a physically affectionate person by nature, but only with his friends. Not with strangers, and certainly not with anyone he had a crush on. As soon as someone went from being a friend to a love interest, he started being careful about how he touched them.

But wait, he and Felix _were_ friends. And that’s all he was trying to be, Sylvain reminded himself sternly. He shouldn’t be feeling like he was about to start panting just from Felix’s foot touching his. Fuck. He had almost forgotten that he was trying to crush this crush to save their friendship instead—

Felix’s big toe reached around the back of his foot and hooked around his Achilles tendon. Sylvain’s stomach dropped out with a lurch and the sudden sense that something was very, very wrong.

He bolted out of his chair. “Wh—what are you doing?” he stammered at Felix, trying not to lose his head entirely.

“I’m having fun,” said Felix. “Aren’t you?” Felix stood too, circling around the table to stand by Sylvain, stumbling into him slightly. Oh no.

It clicked in Sylvain’s head: the incoherent table talk, the blush high on Felix’s face, the way Felix was clinging to his arm…this was bad.

Because the past two times that he had seen Felix this drunk, Felix had once straight-up passed out, and the other time he had given Sylvain a drunken handjob apparently so regrettable that he hadn’t been willing to talk to Sylvain for a year.

So the fact that Felix was falling all over him right now suggested that one of those two things might happen again. And that was very, _very_ bad.

“Felix, I really think you should drink some water and go to sleep,” Sylvain said, heart pounding as he tried to gently push Felix’s balance back to center.

But Felix kept leaning on him anyway. “Why, what time is it?” He pressed his face close to Sylvain’s neck. “Will you come to bed with me?”

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.

“Felix,” Sylvain said, swallowing hard, “am I imagining this, or are you coming on to me?”

Felix hummed and tilted his head thoughtfully. “Don’t you want me to be?” Felix smiled.

Was that… _innuendo?_

No. It wasn’t until Felix’s eyes narrowed into shrewd, cutting slits that Sylvain understood: Felix was fucking _mocking him._ And that hurt.

Sylvain shook himself and firmly said, “Felix. You’re clearly very drunk. You should really go to bed.”

“I don’t wanna.” Felix’s eyes stayed narrowed, eyelids fluttering like he was already sleepy.

“Shit, you skipped lunch because you took a nap, didn’t you?” Sylvain realized, heart sinking. How had he not remembered? “That’s why you’re so drunk, isn’t it?”

“I mean, if you can get the same amount of drunk for less by just…not eating…” Felix grinned, looking wickedly pleased with his own cleverness. “It saves on both alcohol and food.”

Sylvain frowned disapprovingly, stung by Felix’s apathy. “That really isn’t funny right now.”

“Funny?” Felix giggled. “You want to see something funny? How about this—”

Felix grabbed Sylvain’s face and kissed him like he wanted it to hurt. Sylvain recoiled slightly, but Felix just pushed forward to make up for it, shoving his face onto Sylvain’s. Their teeth clicked painfully as Felix mashed them harder together.

It made Sylvain wonder if Felix didn’t understand that lips and mouths were flesh and blood, vulnerable to pain and bruising. Couldn’t he feel his own?

He pushed Felix off of him by the shoulders. “Wait,” he said, mind racing.

“Why?”

“Because—” Sylvain said the first excuse that popped into his head: “I could get your cold.” It didn’t even make sense, but—

“I don’t care,” Felix said firmly.

It took Sylvain’s brain a second to compute that that _wasn’t_ romantic. In fact, it was incredibly callous. Maybe it would have sounded sweet in the reverse, if Sylvain had been the sick one and Felix wanted to kiss him anyway—Felix started to lean in for another kiss.

Truly agitated, Sylvain shoved him back harder this time. “Felix, stop it! We can’t do this. I can’t do this. Fucking _stop_.”

Felix stumbled back and leaned back with both hands on the counter. His eyes seemed unfocused, wavering as he stared at Sylvain. “But—but you like kissing,” he said, expression unreadable.

_What, like it’s my defining fucking personality trait?_

Sylvain gritted his teeth. “Not kissing drunk people, I don’t.”

“You’re drinking too,” Felix said, suddenly defensive and cagey. “So we’re even.”

“That’s not the problem!” Sylvain shouted. Felix flinched at his volume, so he lowered his voice.

“It’s _this_ ,” he said, looking from the blood infusing Felix’s face to the hands bracing him on the countertop, visibly shaking. He gestured at Felix’s general state of being. “ _This_ is the problem.”

Felix’s expression hardened.

“I—I didn’t mean...”

But the damage was already done. With a cold stare, Felix said, “Sorry, I didn’t know you had standards now.”

Ouch. Sylvain took a deep breath in an attempt to dissipate the pain in his chest, but it came back out as a weary sigh. He had almost forgotten that Felix was supposed to hate him.

“Felix, what are we doing, really?” he asked, too tired for anything but directness. “Why are we even doing this? You could just go stay with Ingrid or Dimitri if you really wanted.”

Felix didn’t answer. He just downed the shot of whiskey on the counter, and then immediately refilled it, like he was going to drink himself to sleep. Or drink his way into retroactive amnesia. Of course. Of fucking course. Why would he want to remember this?

Felix’s eyes seemed to burn Sylvain as he raised the glass to his lips.

“Dude, stop!” Sylvain grabbed the glass out of his hands and tipped it out over the sink.

Felix gaped at him. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Why the fuck would you do _this_?” Sylvain asked, nearly hysterical. “I can’t—” He slammed the glass back down on the counter so hard he was surprised it didn’t shatter. “You know what? Fine. _I’m_ going to bed. You just—do whatever you want. I guess it’s none of my business.”

“Sylvain—”

Sylvain left. He changed into pajamas and got into bed without brushing his teeth. He needed the taste of alcohol to remind him why he shouldn’t let Felix kiss him again.

_May 8, 2020 at 10:27 PM_

_i’ve always wanted you to kiss me._

_i mean, i also wanted to kiss you, of course, but for some reason i really wanted you to initiate it. that’s why i didn’t kiss you during kiss or slap. i wanted you to kiss me on your own terms._

_i think that last year, in the back of my head, i thought that if i could get you to kiss me, just once, you would fall in love with me and everything would change. so stupid, right? i know what you would say if i spoke this aloud. “you have an inflated sense of your kissing skills.” which is true, but that’s beside the point._

_the point is that you did kiss me, once, and everything did change, and it didn’t solve the problem of my feelings. it made it worse. we should never have kissed drunk without first kissing sober._

_i shouldn’t have done anything with you drunk without first doing it sober._

_but no matter how hard i think about it, i can’t go back in time and fix the timeline, un-fuck-up our relationship. believe me, i’ve tried. i’ve thought about it a million times, wondering how much you remember and how clearly. did you ever forgive me for it? it’s not like you would tell me either way._

_and now you’ve kissed me, on your own terms. drunk. again. and i can’t tell who is taking advantage of who anymore._

_and to be honest, what made kissing you feel so good the first time was the thought that you chose me. that it was specifically you, choosing specifically me. while you could have been out kissing anyone, you were on the floor between our beds, kissing me, choosing me back._

_and maybe that was never true, but it definitely isn’t true right now._

_you didn’t choose me today. this kiss was just convenient. or maybe situational is a better word. you’re kissing me now because the world has shrunk to the size of my apartment, and we’re the only two rats in this miserable, beautiful, 520 square foot cage._

_so you got drunk, because there’s nothing else to do, and you kissed me because there’s no one else to kiss. i’m the only person in the world you’re allowed to touch at all. so i shouldn’t get my hopes up by wondering if you meant something by it. if you care about me._

_because if you cared about me, then you wouldn’t have disappeared from my life in the first place. you would have wanted to fix things._ _and then maybe you would still know me, and know that i can’t kiss people drunk anymore._

_but you don’t._

They pretended that nothing had happened the next day. Just as Sylvain had predicted, Felix either had forgotten the kiss or wanted to.

Sylvain had fallen asleep before Felix had come to bed, but he woke up to find Felix sleeping next to him. He got out of bed and had breakfast alone.

Felix woke up a few hours later and had cereal without acknowledging Sylvain’s presence in the living room. Sylvain tried to ignore Felix in turn, but he seriously considered just opening the door and leaving, just to be anywhere but here.

He took the opportunity to get dressed. He was starting to want his own bedroom back.

“What do you want on the pizza?” Felix asked when he returned.

“Huh?”

“The pizza you wanted for Annette’s party tonight.”

“Oh. I forgot about that.”

“I didn’t,” said Felix. For some reason, that was the most aggravating thing Felix could possibly say. “So? What do you want on it?” Felix asked again.

“Uh…”

“Just choose!” Felix demanded.

Sylvain couldn’t even think of what was supposed to be on a pizza. That was the farthest thing from his mind at the moment. “I’m, um, not a good decision maker…”

“I know that,” Felix said, rolling his eyes. “Choose anyway.”

Was he just imagining the coldness in Felix’s voice? Perhaps he didn’t know Felix just as much as Felix didn’t know him. “Um, I don’t know. Pepperoni.”

“Great. I’ll order it later.”

“Great. Just get it delivered whenever.”

“Oh,” said Felix, “but I was thinking we could—I mean, we can avoid delivery fees by just picking it up.”

“Stingy,” Sylvain commented.

“Economical,” Felix countered.

“Fine.”

“I’ll pick it up,” Felix said. “You don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.”

“Aren’t you still sick?”

“I’m not sick!” Felix insisted. “Really, I’m not.”

Sylvain shrugged. “Okay, whatever. I was gonna go to the store anyway, but I guess we can split up.” He needed an excuse to get out of the house.

“Okay. Yeah. And get some beers or ciders or something,” Felix added offhandedly, picking at his nails. “Whiskey is fun, but hard liquor isn’t the only way to drink.”

The request stung for multiple reasons. “You know I’m not 21 yet, right?” Sylvain asked glumly, picking the easiest one to verbalize. “My birthday isn’t until June.”

“Ha. Your loss.”

“Ugh, that’s so unfair!” Sylvain said, channeling all his bitterness into it. “I can’t believe you got a whole month of being over the age of majority before the world went to shit.”

“I’m pretty sure the age of majority is 18,” Felix corrected.

“Okay, above the age of sobriety, then.”

“And yet I squandered my month of freedom doing homework like normal, not knowing it was my one chance to order alcohol at a restaurant. What a waste.” Felix heaved a sigh, but it was clearly empty of any real emotion. (Like everything else.)

Sylvain tried to stop the flicker of annoyance he felt from reaching his face. “I just can’t believe you’re older than me,” he said. “You sure don’t look it.” _Or act like it._

The look on Felix’s face took on a sly slant. “You know what’s the funniest part, though? No one even asked for ID at the liquor store. I bet you could just waltz in there and get it anyway.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, really. And you’re so tall, they’ll probably think you’re 23.”

(Sylvain hated the way he still liked hearing Felix say “you’re so tall.”)

“In fact…” Felix said, “I dare you. Go buy some booze.”

Sylvain tried to not visibly seethe. “Fine.” He dug into his pocket and handed Felix a key.

“Is this…?”

“Yeah, a key to the apartment,” Sylvain said, trying to ignore the weighty symbolism of the object. “I have two. The other one is in my wallet in case I ever forget this one, so I’ll just use that one.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Well, I’ll see you later, then. Keep your phone on.”

“Sure. And Sylvain?”

“What?” he snapped.

Felix looked upset by his tone. “Just… be safe,” he said, looking away.

Sylvain’s anger relented and was replaced by simple sadness. “Yeah,” he breathed, wishing things were different. “You too.”

The walk to the store was depressing. Sylvain had expected it would feel good to get outside, but everything looked like a reminder of how alone he was. The fact that there was hardly anyone on the streets, and closed signs on so many stores…

And to top it all off, even the cloudless sky somehow managed to look more grey than blue. Sylvain couldn’t tell if it was just his perception, or if his life was a movie and it was going to start raining to show exactly how unsubtle his heart was.

Things didn’t improve much when he got to the store. Sylvain had a problem called runs-in-circles-in-the-supermarket disease, which always made him run in circles in the supermarket like a lost child. He had never been very organized as a person, scatterbrained even in the best of circumstances, and there were just so many aisles, and items on the shelves, and colorful labels to read, and things on his list—

On his second lap around the produce, Sylvain abruptly remembered going grocery shopping with Felix sometimes. Felix had always known the most efficient way to get in the store, get what they needed, and get out. He always rewrote the list before leaving home so it was in the order of the aisles.

Sylvain wished Felix had come with him. Or maybe that Felix had done the grocery shopping and he had gone to get the pizza instead. It wasn’t often that he wanted to be alone, but today was a rare day of the worst kind.

He was so distracted that without even thinking about it, he found himself comparing boxes of pasta and calling Felix to ask his opinion about it.

“ _Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging system. At the tone, please record your message. When you have finished recording, you may hang up, or press one for more options._ ”

He nearly hung up as soon as he snapped out of his daze, but Felix’s answering machine was already recording, and Felix would see that he had called anyway, so he went ahead and spoke.

“Hey Fe, I’m just in the pasta aisle and was wondering if—okay, I just realized how stupid this is, but if you have a favorite pasta shape? I have penne at home already, I just thought I remembered you liking macaroni or something. Just, if you get this message in the next ten minutes, call or text me if you want me to get it. Otherwise—well, I’ll probably still get it. Okay, I lov—I’ll be home soon. Bye.”

He dropped the box of macaroni in his basket and wondered how fucking stupid he must be to be fighting with Felix and still nearly say “I love you” on the phone to him.

As he stood in line waiting to pay, he stared numbly at the person in front of him. His eyes went unfocused on the person’s long, wavy brown hair—

“Oh my gosh—Dorothea?”

“Sylvain?” She turned to see him, and even with only half of her face visible, Sylvain could see her light up in recognition.

Before he knew it, he was hugging her, and she was hugging him back. “Oh wow, it’s nice to see you!” Dorothea said with a laugh.

“You’re quite a sight for sore eyes yourself,” he said, smiling at the familiarity of her voice.

“Shouldn’t we be keeping our distance, though?”

“Oh, shit. Right. Sorry.” Sylvain backed off to an appropriate distance—but god, those three seconds of physical contact with someone who didn’t want to hurt him had felt so nice. The touch seemed to linger as a glow in his arms.

He hadn’t realized until then that his skin felt viscerally hungry for positive touch. Why couldn’t he just hug Felix at home?

“So, uh, how are you? How are Petra and Edelgard?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the wave of loneliness.

“Oh, we’re all doing good!” Dorothea said. “Petra had to go back home, though, so the difference in timezone is a bit inconvenient for staying in touch. And for her classes, of course.”

“Ah, that sucks. Oh, and I heard from Ingrid that you guys—”

“Yes!” Dorothea squealed, sounding breathless with excitement. “Ah, it’s just so exciting! I can’t wait to see her in person again—I mean, whenever going on dates is a thing people do again.”

“So, girlfriend number three, huh?” Sylvain teased. “But still no boyfriend...”

“Oh hush,” Dorothea scolded jokingly, still obviously grinning behind the mask. “I may be attracted to men, but I don’t have to like them.”

“What about me?” Sylvain said, pretending to be offended.

“You’re okay, I guess. Why, did you wanna be in the running for boyfriend number one?”

Sylvain smiled. “Nah, not really. Besides, you’d be girlfriend number fifteen or something for me. I don’t think anyone deserves that dishonor, especially not a woman as classy as yourself.”

It was nice to remember he could do a bit of flirting with someone other than Felix. Then he remembered that he had tried hooking up with Dorothea once, and it still hadn’t felt the same.

“Ah, what a shame,” Dorothea sighed, clearly not upset at all. “So, you’re sticking with just guys from now on, then?”

“Yeah. But you wouldn’t be able to handle my drama, anyway.”

Dorothea laughed. “Yeah, right back at you! And to be fair, I’d rather be in actual loving relationships than just make out with anyone who’s willing.”

“God, what a mood,” Sylvain said without thinking.

“Ooh, Sylvain, what does _that_ mean?” Dorothea said, leaning in with interest. “Has someone new caught your eye? I didn’t know you were one for commitment. ”

Shame punched Sylvain in the throat again. _Not someone new, no._ He was too busy making the same mistakes again.

“I—it’s complicated right now,” he got out, dropping his gaze to his shopping basket. “Ingrid could probably tell you about it.”

“Are you saying that I should ask her?” Dorothea asked.

“Hmm,” Sylvain said, wondering whether it would get back to Felix through Dorothea. “Maybe not.”

“That’s fine!” Dorothea said. “I don’t want to pry, you know.”

“Thanks.” Sylvain tried not to let his mood plummet again. “So, um, you and Edelgard are still living together, then?”

“Yep, me and Edie and Hubie! It feels different without Petra balancing us out though. I used to feel bad about Hubert being the fourth wheel to our trio, but now that Petra’s gone, I get it. Like, I’m dating Edelgard, but now suddenly _I’m_ the third wheel to Edelgard and Hubert’s friendship. It’s a little weird.” She laughed a little self-consciously.

“Yeah,” Sylvain laughed, “it’s too bad they’re both queer as three dollar bills. Otherwise they could probably be dating, too.”

Dorothea tilted her head. “Hmm, you think so? I dunno, I think some people are just made to be friends, no matter what. They seem like the kind of people who would be friends in every lifetime.”

“Yeah,” Sylvain admitted. “Probably.” Some people _were_ born to be friends—he’d used to count Felix and himself among them.

Maybe they were the opposite of those people after all. Maybe they couldn’t be friends, no matter how hard they tried.

Dorothea seemed to pick up on Sylvain’s emotions despite his attempts not to show them. “Hey, do you wanna join me for lunch? I got some sushi we could eat on a park bench or something if you want. It’s just so nice to remember that other people exist, you know?”

“Ah, I would love to, but I am buying some frozen things…” Sylvain cut himself off. “Actually, yes. That sounds great. I’ll meet you outside then?”

“I’ll find us a place to sit. You still have my number, right?” Dorothea winked at him.

“Yeah,” Sylvain chuckled. “I sure do.”

“Lovely! I’ll try not to melt all your frozen things with my smoking hot presence.” She flipped her hair, getting another laugh out of him as they both moved forward in the line.

“Thanks, Dorothea.”

“Of course! What are friends for?”

 _(This,_ Sylvain reminded himself. _This is what friends are for.)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for alcohol. These boys are drinking.
> 
> Also, (I can't believe I'm apologizing for this, but) sorry I took 4 days instead of my promised 3! I just got a little stuck on this chapter, and have school, and got to see my friends for the first time in like 170 days... but the next few chapters are already completely written, so hopefully I will be able to continue my insane posting schedule. Thanks for all the support <3


	18. too much, too little, too late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday, May 9th. Felix attends Annette's birthday party and hates just about everything that comes out of his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings in the end notes!

Felix was surprised to find that Sylvain still wasn’t back when he arrived home with the pizza. He set the pizza with two plates and two cups on the coffee table, half wondering if Sylvain had decided to pull his own vanishing act on him after the disaster the night before. He went back to the kitchen and grabbed what little whiskey remained in the bottle too.

Rather than get consumed by his spiraling thoughts, he decided to ask Annette if he could call a bit early to talk before the party.

“Welcome to the virthday party!” Annette said, spreading her arms wide in welcome as she appeared on his laptop screen.

“Uh, thanks,” Felix said. He tilted his screen to better center the camera on where he sat on the couch in the living room. “Why the accent?”

“Accent?”

“You said virthday party?”

“Oh! Virtual birthday party,” Annette clarified.

“Right… So, where’s Mercedes?”

“She’s making me a ‘surprise,’ according to her.” Annette then cupped her hand to her mouth and spoke in a mock whisper. “Don’t tell her I told you this, but I’m pretty sure the surprise is a cake! How are things with you and Sylvain, by the way?”

“Um, I’m not sure how that’s related, but I… I think we’re fighting right now, actually.”

“Oh? Why?”

Was this the time to tell someone? “You’re going to make fun of me so much,” Felix said, pulse racing.

“I promise I won’t,” she said, drawing an X over her heart.

“No, I can pretty much assure you. You will.” His heart pounded and he felt a little clammy. No, wait, make that a lot clammy.

Annette looked genuinely concerned. “Okay? Should you maybe not tell me, then? ‘Cause you don’t have to, y’know.”

“No,” Felix admitted, “I want to. It’s just… I, um, realized something.”

“That you’re gay?”

“No, that I—” Felix blinked. “Wait, yes, actually. Yes. Were you asking that as a joke?”

“No, that was serious!” Annette assured him. “So, you are gay? I mean I know the answer, but do you?”

“Yes?” Felix said, profoundly baffled on what the right answer to that question was. “Wait, how did you know?”

“Well first of all, I want to say thank you for telling me,” Annette said, more serious than Felix had ever seen her. “I know it can be scary at first, but I hope you know that I love you and support you always!” She paused to make sure the message got across. “And secondly, I’m sorry to inform you that you might be the last person to figure that out.”

He couldn’t decide if he felt relieved or offended or both. “Again I ask, how?”

“Should I really list all the reasons?” she asked.

Felix nodded warily. How many could there possibly be?

Annette took a breath and said, “Okay. So. First off, you’re friends with, like, a million gay people, including myself. And…well, we all know birds of a feather flock together. And you gravitate to gay people so hard, literally all your friends are some shade of gay.”

“Except Dimitri.”

“Except Dimitri,” she amended, “as far as we’re aware. Secondly, you’re also very awkward about sex and romance, while at the same time being super comfortable with all your gay friends dating each other—like, more than most straight people would be. No weird comments or insensitive questions or acting awkward around us or anything!”

Felix’s eyes widened. That already seemed like a lot of reasons.

Annette was nowhere near done. “And third,” —she gave him a frank look as she ticked them off on her fingers— “not to be stereotypical, but you’re also just… well, not _feminine_ , exactly, but you’re definitely not performing masculinity in the conventional heterosexual way? Like, you take care of your appearance, but it’s obviously more for the sake of being neat and clean than for attracting girls. And fourth, you listen to a positively homosexual amount of Troye Sivan.”

“He makes good music!” Felix insisted.

“Yeah. About being gay.”

“You’ve really put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?” Felix grumbled.

Annette ignored him. “And also, you clearly don’t have much experience with dating, and that seems to bother you? Yet you also don’t show any interest in…well, anyone. But then” —she glanced at her hand in confusion as she ran out of fingers to count— “around certain guys, you can be, like, jumpy. Skittish, I guess? And you’re, like, aggressively oblivious to when girls flirt with you, but then you get _super_ embarrassed if a guy shows interest in you.”

“What? Which girls have liked me?” Felix’s mind churned sluggishly. “Wait,” he said slowly, “which _guys_ have liked me?”

Annette rolled her eyes. “You’re just proving my points.”

“I wasn’t trying to disprove them!”

“Hey, man, you asked,” Annette said, raising her hands up to demonstrate her surrender.

“I know that. It’s just—” He rubbed his temples to try to relieve some of the mental overload. “Sorry. I’m…new to this,” he said lamely. “I mean, I guess I knew in the back of my head for… I don’t even know how long, but I was in this…weird fugue state of denial.”

Annette looked at him with fond understanding. “Ah, the weird fugue state of denial. Trust me, I get it. Would you rather talk about something else?”

“Yes, please,” he said, relieved. God, Annette was such a good friend. “At least for a little while. I’m not drunk enough for this conversation.” He poured himself some whiskey to start remedying that problem.

“Okie dokie!” Annette said agreeably. “Well, for my party, I have this board game called Be A Broadway Star, and I think it should work, even long-distance. And if not, we can play Murder Party Trivia.”

“You mean Trivia Murder Party?”

“Yeah, Trivia Party Murder.”

“Trivia Murder Party.”

“Uh, yeah?” Annette said, confused. “Do you not like the game or something?”

Felix had a strong suspicion she didn't know why they were repeating the words at each other. For context, one of her other favorite party games was what she usually called “Kill, Marry, Fuck.” Occasionally she called it “Bed, Head, Be-wed.”

“But I really want to play the Broadway game!” Annette gushed excitedly. “I want Mercedes to sing Honey Honey from Mamma Mia. ‘Cause I’ve heard her sing it in the shower, and it’s sooooo cute!”

“I hope the cards work out in your favor, then.”

Annette suddenly glanced at something off camera and grabbed her phone. “Oh my god. Ashe is texting me,” she said. “This is so funny.” She texted back for a moment, giggling, then held her phone up to the camera so Felix could read her screen.

_hi annette!!! happy birthday!!_

_for some reason the link for your party isn’t working?_

_at least not on my computer_

_or dedue’s_

_this is a bad bitch party, you cant get in_

_:(_

_ok im modifying the rules so that good bitches are allowed too_

_:) thank you!_

“I’ll send the new link in our group chat,” she said, still giggling.

“Oh wait, before you send it,” Felix interjected, “I didn’t know what to get you—or if anything would arrive on time—so I just sent you 25 bucks on venmo so you can get whatever you want.”

Annette smiled and sighed, shaking her head. “You know what I love about you, Felix? You don’t mince words. We all need a friend who just tells it to us straight.” Then her eyes lit up and she cackled, “Or maybe not-so-straight. Directly, but gayly.”

Felix groaned.

“No, Felix!” she exclaimed, drumming her fingers together excitedly. “This is great! You should rejoice! You can make gay jokes now!”

“Ah, finally,” he said dryly. “That opens up a realm of possibilities for me.”

Annette giggled. “Well, anyway. I’m sending the link now.” She made a big show of snaking one finger through the air before diving to hit enter on her laptop.

A moment passed, but Felix’s phone didn’t buzz. “Wait, did you even send it?” Felix asked. “In the group chat?”

“I sure did!”

“Weird. I thought I’d left my phone on.” Felix pulled it out of his pocket to turn the ringer on and saw there was a missed call and voicemail from Sylvain. “Oh fuck, I—”

Just then he heard the door open.

“Felix, I’m hoooome!” Sylvain called out needlessly loud. “Did you miss me? Did you get my message?”

“No and no,” Felix responded. “Well, I got the message but I didn’t get a chance to listen to it. Why?”

“Oh, it’s nothing! You can just delete it then.” Sylvain bustled around emptying the grocery bags, then joined Felix on the couch with salsa and chips, because it wasn’t a real party unless they ate twice their daily recommended amount of sodium.

(At least Sylvain seemed to be in a better mood than before. Felix was glad for him. Meanwhile he still felt utterly humiliated after his horrendous attempt at flirting and subsequent rejection last night.)

“Yay, pizza!” Sylvain said. “Thanks for picking it up. Oh, and guess what? I got you more earl grey. You can thank me later.”

“Oh, Earl Grey,” Felix said with sardonic, exaggerated gratitude. “You know how much I love that man.” He heard Annette stifle a laugh and felt his face get hot as he realized what he had said. “So, uh, how did you do on the dare?” he hastily added.

Sylvain grinned. “Check this out.” He went to the kitchen again and came back with two bottles of cider and a bottle opener. “Pretty impressive, right?” Then he noticed the nearly empty whiskey bottle on the floor and frowned.

“Sorry. I got started without you.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Sylvain said. But somehow, from the way Sylvain viciously popped off the cap of his cider, Felix didn’t think it was really okay.

As Sylvain took a first swig of his cider, Felix suddenly noticed that Sylvain was one of the people who put the bottle to his mouth tongue-first, licking over the opening before drinking from it. Every time he took a sip, he was tonguing the narrow opening before engulfing it. As if just engulfing it weren’t bad enough. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Well, fuck him sideways. Felix looked away, wishing he could go back to not noticing how he felt about everything.

Dedue and Ashe popped onto the screen a few seconds later, followed almost immediately by Ingrid and Dimitri.

“Yay, everyone’s here!” Annette cheered. “Wait—Mercedes, get in here!” she called over her shoulder.

“Why are you two together? Like, in the same physical space?” Felix asked, confused that Dimitri and Ingrid were sitting side by side.

Ashe said, “Oh! My father said Dedue was welcome to stay with us, so—”

“No, not you,” Felix said. “I was asking the boar.”

Dimitri glanced guiltily at Ingrid. “I live alone,” he said. “So at least in this way, I do not pose a threat to anyone.”

“Right...” Felix said skeptically.

Ingrid glared and very pointedly said, “Hey, Dimitri, would you be a dear and get me a glass of water?”

“Of course.”

Once he was out of earshot, Ingrid turned back to the camera. “Come on, Felix, you know being alone is really bad for his mental health. I’ve been trying to get him to come over for dinner with my family, but no luck yet. And this is only the second time he’s let me come over, either. So please, try to be nice to him.”

“Okay, okay,” Felix relented. “Desperate times, and all that.”

“So Annette,” said Dedue, “how are we going to be celebrating your birthday?”

“I’m so glad you asked! We’re going to play a game called Be a Broadway Star! And this is perfect, since we’re already in teams of two: me and Mercedes, Sylvain and Felix, Dedue and Ashe, and Dimitri and Ingrid. Everyone pick a team name!”

Mercedes said, “Oh! We can be…Team Lady Lions!”

“That’s what I’m talking about, people!” Annette exclaimed. “Next!”

“Team…Blond Bosses?” suggested Ingrid.

“Approved! Ashe? Dedue?”

“Um, Team…” Ashe said, looking stumped.

“Good Bitches,” Annette suggested.

“Um, sure.”

“Sylvain? Felix?”

“Wait, we can use profanity?” asked Sylvain. “Team Whores.” Felix wished for death to claim him quickly.

Annette laughed and said, “Alright, then! Let’s roll!”

“We don’t have any dice,” Dedue pointed out.

“Not a problem!” Annette chirped. “I’ll roll and draw cards for everyone!” She rolled to determine the turn order.

It was a bit hard to follow exactly what was going on when they couldn’t even see the board, but the first real event was that on Sylvain and Felix’s second turn, they apparently got an “audition.”

Annette drew a card for them. “And the show is… Rent! Team Whores?”

“Ooh! Ooh! I got this!” Sylvain sprang to his feet without an ounce of hesitation and launched into singing.

 _“Every single day I walk down the street  
_ _I hear people say, baby, so sweet  
_ _Ever since puberty, everybody stares at me  
_ _Boys, girls, I can't can't help it, baby  
_ _So be kind, and don't lose your mind  
_ _Just remember that I'm your baby—”_

Sylvain circled around to behind the couch to have more room to dance, spreading his arms wide and pouting, throwing in a gratuitous body roll and just generally putting on a show for the computer’s webcam.

 _“Take me for what I am  
_ _Who I was meant to be  
_ _And if you give a damn  
_ _Take me, baby, or leave me  
_ _Take me, baby, or leave me!”_

He finished. And then struck a pose to show that he was finished. Felix wished he had it in him to laugh.

Everyone except Felix clapped and whooped, applauding the performance. “Oh, wow,” Annette said, shaking with laughter, “Idina Menzel is quaking in her boots!”

“Thank you!” Sylvain said, flopping down on the couch next to Felix again. The game went on, with Felix dreading each turn, because the next time their team got an audition, it would be his turn to sing.

The next audition was for Team Good Bitches: Dear Evan Hansen. Ashe sang an adorable, stammering version of Waving Through a Window. (Damn. Felix really been counting on singing that song.)

Annette drew the card for Wicked and immediately sang Popular—and sang the whole song with such an infectious sense of drama and enthusiasm that no one even wanted to stop her. If one person understood dynamics, it was Annette. Who knew Popular could express such a range of emotion?

Then Ingrid sang the first verse and chorus of the opening song from Billy Elliot on behalf of Team Blond Bosses. (“What? It’s a socialist anthem!”)

Dedue got The Sound of Music. Another show Felix would have actually known. Felix assumed Edelweiss would be the natural choice for Dedue—

He jumped in surprise along with everyone else as Dedue burst into a robust, lively rendition of My Favorite Things. If anyone had that the forgotten the song takes place during a thunderstorm, the deep timbre of Dedue’s voice reminded them.

Unfortunately for Annette, Mercedes did not get Mamma Mia. Fortunately for Mercedes, she got Frozen instead. Mercedes’ eyes lit up as she drew the card. She said, “Ooh, I can do this one!” and started singing Love is An Open Door.

“ _All my life has been a series of doors in my face—_ ”

Annette joined in on, “ _And then suddenly I bump into you_ ,” before dropping out again.

Mercedes continued with Prince Hans’ part.

“ _I was thinking the same thing! 'Cause, like  
__I've been searching my whole life to find my own place  
__And maybe it's the party talking or the chocolate fondue…_ ”

“ _But with you…_ ” Annette sang.

“ _But with you…_ ” Mercedes caught on to what Annette wanted and stuck to singing Hans’ part of the duet. _“I found my place—”_

_“I see your face—”_

“ _And it’s nothing like I’ve ever known before…_ ” they sang together.

They harmonized on the chorus, Mercedes graciously ceding the higher part to Annette, who animatedly took over Anna’s part of the whole duet. Once again, they sang the entire song because no one had the heart to stop them. And admittedly, it was pretty endearing.

At the end of the song, Mercedes parroted the line, “Can I say something crazy? Will you marry me?”

And Annette, grinning, responded, “Can I say something even crazier? AAAAAA—” She let out a shriek like a goat and then collapsed into wheezing laughter against Mercedes’ arm.

Her personal touch at the end ripped a surprised snort of laughter out of Felix. “You’re deranged,” he said, shaking his head while everyone laughed. Mercedes kissed Annette on the top of her head.

And Dimitri refused to sing anything. When Team Blond Bosses’ turn rolled around again and they got Aladdin, Ingrid sang A Whole New World by herself. Her cover of the song was immediately followed by everyone else chiming in with praise.

“That was beautiful.”

“Yeah, wow!”

“Truly gorgeous.”

“Yeah, you have a great voice, Ingrid!”

Felix eyed Dimitri with disappointment. “Yeah, Ingrid, I can’t believe _someone_ would refuse to sing with you...”

Sylvain laughed and joined in, “Yeah Dimitri! It’s a duet, for god’s sake!”

Dimitri wilted under the criticism. “I know. I apologize for my—”

“Oh my god, it’s fine,” Ingrid said, giving Dimitri a noogie on the head.

Felix’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He quickly turned off the ringer and checked it under the table. Sylvain had texted him.

_tbh i’m really not sure why we’re friends with this guy_

_dedue and ingrid seem to like him. no idea why tho_

_i just wonder what made him the way he is_

_his father was russian_

_?????_

_felix what is that supposed to mean_

_my dad said he was involved in organized crime_

_you mean like the MAFIA???_

_yeah? did u not know?_

_that’s why he and edelgard have some weird rivalry_

_its like, an inter-mafia schism or something_

_omg omg dimitri be like_

_“you come into my house, on the day annette is to be 21,_

_and you ask me to sing showtunes, for fun”_

_is this a reference? i don’t get it_

_yes_

_also, wait, ur dad knew dimitri’s dad? i didn’t know that!_

_yeah they went to middle and high school together_

_when the boar’s father first moved here. from russia._

_hey felix have u ever read the goldfinch_

_no? why?_

_oh. no reason_

_also u know what else is cursed about the boar?_

_what?_

_he doesnt eat anything with garlic in it_

_?!?!?! is he allergic?_

_he won’t say. he just won’t eat it_

_how did i live next door to him for a year and not know_

_you’re not observant. also he doesn’t really care for food_

_i don’t think he even has a sense of taste…_

_that’s…incredibly cursed_

_and isn’t that like a….symptom? nowadays???_

_not if he’s been like that his whole life, no_

_and yet he says cilantro tastes like soap to him._

_oh lord what a genetic disaster_

_thank god dedue found ashe instead_

_get you a man who can eat garlic AND cilantro_

_oh absolutely_

_to call ashe an upgrade would be a tremendous understatement_

_yeah, good for dedue_

_good! for! dedue!_

_and good for ashe, bc he gets to eat dedue’s cooking._

_yeah that man can really cook_

_absolute beast in the kitchen_

_i can only envy his skill. and his sexy, sexy broad shoulders_

Felix almost laughed out loud, but didn’t want to give away that they were having their own private conversation under the table—or give Sylvain the satisfaction. He popped open his own cider to distract himself.

But then again…maybe this meant Sylvain was willing to forgive and forget again?

And Sylvain was still texting him.

_u know how dimitri and i once signed up for psych as a gen-ed together_

_oh?_

_yeah, spring freshman year_

_and i stg, after every class (every single class!!)_

_he went straight to the student health center for counseling. lol_

_i’m glad he reached out for the help he so clearly needs_

_he also ran into the class five minutes late_

_every time._

_and always asked to borrow a pencil._

_and then broke all my pencils._

_i started giving him pens and he fucking managed to break those too_

_he’s a man of chaos and many talents._

_like breaking things_

_and not singing_

_yes that as well_

Felix distantly heard Annette announce, “Guys and Dolls!”

No one responded for a long minute. “Wait, you mean me?” Felix asked, looking up from his phone.

“Yes you! Assuming you’ve recovered from your sore throat enough to sing?”

“Of course I have,” Felix snapped, face burning.

“Okay, well…Guys and Dolls!” Annette stared at him expectantly.

“I don’t know it.”

“Alright, but I really want you to sing, so…” Annette flipped over another card. “How about…” She paused for a mental drumroll. “Godspell!”

“Again, no.”

“Hmm, how about…South Pacific!”

“Still no.”

Annette frowned and drew the cards a little less dramatically, skipping the pause before announcing, “Little Shop of Horrors!”

“Nope.”

“Spring Awakening!”

“Never heard of it.” Though it did sound rather relevant to his current situation.

“Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.”

Felix opened his mouth and then closed it again. “If I didn’t know how badly you want me to sing, I would accuse you of making that up.”

“Okay, okay.” Annette drew another card. “Do you know Oklahoma?” Then she giggled to herself and said, “Haha. OK. Oklahoma.”

“No,” Felix said, unamused by state abbreviation humor.

She drew again. “Chicago?”

“No.”

And again. “Memphis?”

“Just assume I don’t know any musicals named after locations,” Felix said, growing impatient.

Sylvain snickered. “Damn, bro, if you don’t want to sing, just say so. I would say there is no shame in it, but… there’s only a little shame in it. Don’t be like Dimitri.”

Dimitri nodded pathetically. “Yes. Don’t be like me.”

“I’m not refusing to sing, I just seriously don’t know these shows!” Felix protested. “Just—just pick another,” he instructed Annette.

“Les Mis.”

“Fine, yes, I’ve seen Les Mis,” Felix said, quickly trying to call it to mind. “I only saw the movie, but the songs are the same, right? And I must know a song from it. Don’t I?” He racked his brain for one he would be able to sing.

“I can pick another card,” Annette offered, to which Sylvain groaned.

“No, that’s okay,” Felix said. “Can I just…look up the lyrics?” His heart thudded loudly at the prospect of singing anything. He half hoped Annette would say no.

But of course Mercedes was encouraging and said, “Sure you can, Felix!” with a wide smile. Annette nodded eagerly.

Felix resigned himself with a sigh. “Ugh, fine. What’s the name of the song that’s like ‘the river’s just a river’?”

“On my own,” Annette supplied, a little smile sneaking onto her face.

“Yeah, okay.” He looked up the lyrics. And realized what a grave error he had made.

Fuck. Was it better or worse to change the pronouns? No, he should just sing it like it was written, right? Then it wouldn’t seem like he was personalizing it to his life, like he actually meant it or had put any thought into making it either homo or no homo.

But seriously? Seriously, gods, or demons, or whoever had cursed him for all eternity? “ _All my life I've only been pretending_ ”? Had Victor Hugo written Les Mis specifically to humiliate one gay boy a continent away and more than a century down the road?

Felix had truly doomed himself, but it was too late to back down now. Annette really wanted him to sing. And he loved Annette. So he stared down at his phone screen and quietly sang to it and only it.

“ _On my own, pretending he's beside me  
__All alone, I walk with him ’til morning  
__Without him, I feel his arms around me  
__And when I lose my way I close my eyes and he has found me_

 _In the rain the pavement shines like silver  
_ _All the lights are misty in the river  
_ _In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight  
_ _And all I see is him and me forever and forever_

 _And I know it's only in my mind  
_ _That I'm talking to myself and not to him  
_ _And although I know that he is blind  
_ _Still I say there's a way for us_

 _I love him, but when the night is over  
_ _He is gone, the river's just a river  
_ _Without him, the world around me changes_  
_The trees are bare and everywhere  
_ _The streets are full of strangers…”_

His voice faltered. He only had one “I love him” in him. He couldn’t possibly go on and say it four more times.

He snapped his head up and said, “There, was that enough?” His face was burning so hot that he might as well have poured his whiskey on his head and set it aflame. It would have achieved the same result.

He avoided Sylvain’s eyes, though he could sense Sylvain staring at him. Felix would’ve stared at himself too, after that miserable showing.

“Yes, that was lovely! I’m quite pleased with your performance,” Annette said primly.

“You have a nice voice,” Dedue complimented.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you could sing!” Ashe agreed.

“Hey, has anyone noticed that Felix is gay now?” said no one, despite Felix’s constant anxiety about it.

“I’m going to consider that as your _real_ birthday gift to me,” Annette said with a wink. “It was priceless.”

“Great,” Felix said, wanting to crumble into dust. He unwittingly caught a glance of Sylvain looking at him.

Sylvain’s lips were pursed in a strange, pained expression. One of his eyebrows twitched like he was about to either burst into laughter or tears. Felix couldn’t decide which would be worse. Either one would be fucking awful. Sylvain had better fucking hold it together, or Felix would shrivel up and die right then and there.

Thankfully, Annette came to Felix’s rescue by abruptly changing the topic. “Wow,” she said, “I’m just thinking, it sure is a good thing Ferdinand isn’t here! I once played this game with him, and if anyone didn’t know a musical he took their turn for them. So we woulda just heard, like, ten songs in a row from him!”

Sylvain snapped out of whatever he was thinking and chimed in, “Oh, speaking of people who would love to play this game—you’ll never guess who I ran into at the store!” His expression turned mischievous.

Ingrid squealed and said, “Ooh! Ooh! I can guess! Dorothea?”

“Bingo,” Sylvain said with a cheeky finger-gun at the screen.

Annette laughed. “Oh yeah, she would have _killed_ at this game!”

Ingrid said, “Oh my gosh, how did she look?” with a clear suggestive tone to her voice that Felix had rarely ever heard her use. He especially didn’t like hearing it in this context.

Sylvain winked and replied, “Gorgeous as always! Actually, maybe even more gorgeous than usual! And I got to see her up close and personal…”

Wait, was—did Sylvain still like Dorothea? Or was he… _with_ Dorothea somehow?

And just when Felix thought it couldn’t get any worse, Sylvain glanced at him before sheepishly adding, “We kinda got in the same line and… I may have accidentally thrown my arms around her when I recognized her?”

Felix felt the color draining from his face.

“But we were both wearing masks!” Sylvain quickly added. “It was just for, like, a second. Before I came to my senses.”

Felix’s mind railed against its own conclusion, but every second he thought about it made it seem more likely. After all, hadn’t Annette told him before that Sylvain and Dorothea had hooked up?

It would be so easy, then: Sylvain was quick to laugh, quick to flirt, quick to fall asleep, so what was there to say he wouldn’t be equally quick to fall back into love with an ex-girlfriend? Why wouldn’t Sylvain leap at the chance if she was willing to have him back?

Felix distantly heard Ingrid say, “Maybe we should call her up so you two can sing something from Lady and The Tramp.”

“Nah, that’s not a Broadway show,” Sylvain sighed, “so it’s not in the game. Besides, she’s too classy to be the Tramp.”

Ingrid snickered. “No, she’s obviously the lady of the two of you. I was calling _you_ the Tramp.”

“Oh. Well in that case, I have a different objection. I’m too rich to be the Tramp.” Sylvain shrugged with sheepish, phony humility. He followed the words up with the absolute fuckboy move of pushing his bottom lip to one side with his thumb just to show off how soft and plush it was, how quickly it sprang back into place when his finger slipped off of it again.

God, how had Felix been stupid enough to fall for _this_? For _Sylvain_? Sylvain was just a—an entitled straight white boy who liked messing around with other guys, but not enough to actually date them.

And Felix would never be his white girl crush of the week.

Felix told himself all that, but it didn’t make the humiliating feeling go away. Of course. He should have known. But the realization still stung. His mind escaped to somewhere else for the rest of the call.

As Annette started to wrap up the party, they all sang a very terrible, discordant rendition of happy birthday. Not only was everyone in a different key, but they were also at different points in the song. Felix only took part in the monstrosity because he knew singing was Annette’s main love language, and he loved Annette. Besides, there was no way he could possibly humiliate himself any more than he already had.

When they finally ended the call and shut the laptop, Felix stood slowly. He hadn’t realized how drunk he was until he was on his feet. (Oh no, had he forgotten to eat lunch again?) But by then it was too late.

He whirled on Sylvain. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sylvain dropped his gaze. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t cut it anymore,” he hissed.

Sylvain cringed, wrenching his face away to the side. He stayed in that position, holding still like he was in fight or flight mode and his body had just chosen freeze.

“Hugging Dorothea in the store,” Felix said bitterly. “What the fuck is your problem? Been too long since you last got your cock wet? What, any—”

_Any warm body will do, except mine?_

“Anyone else you want to move in with you?” Felix demanded. “Anyone else you’re gonna breathe on and invite back to your place? You can just tell me now who your new bedmate will be, if there’s nothing that’ll stop you.”

“I’m sorry,” Sylvain said quietly. He looked at Felix out of the corner of his eye as if he still couldn’t turn his head to look at him fully.

“Oh, the fuck you are!” Felix spat. “Don’t try to bullshit me, you were gloating about it like it was the highlight of your life. Did you take off your mask to plant a big wet one on her, too?” He injected every ounce of venom he could into his voice. Maybe if he could convince Sylvain that he hated him, he could convince himself too.

“You never could control yourself, could you?” he added. “You’ve always been a whore. A stupid, selfish slut. I can’t believe I expected anything else from you.”

Sylvain pulled his knees up to his chest. He looked like he would love to back up even further if there was anywhere further back to go. His lip trembled as he bit it. Felix still wanted to kiss it.

“You’re disgusting,” Felix said. He was physically shaking, first with hurt, and then with anger at himself for feeling it in the first place.

And then shame washed over him. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, turning his own hurt back on Sylvain, flinging every horrible thing he had ever thought about Sylvain into his face. More than anything, he felt disgusted with himself—disgusted by his terrible jealousy, skin crawling with guilt from being the cause of the fear in Sylvain’s eyes.

Sylvain’s breath came in frantic gasps. Felix needed to run away from it.

He turned and stumbled down the hallway to the bedroom, heat pricking the corners of his eyes. But no, he wouldn’t cry over Sylvain again. He slammed the door and lay down on the bed and blinked furiously at the ceiling. He stared at the ceiling for a long, long time.

He rolled onto his side, still feeling very drunk but too tired to do anything except rip his hair from his bun and curl up into a ball. He took out his phone and looked at the automatic transcript of Sylvain’s voicemail.

It looked kind of like gibberish. Felix thought for a second that his eyes were too fucked up to read. Wow, that would be new. Never before had he been drunk to the point of illiteracy.

And then he realized it was obviously just transcribed a little wrong by the primitive technology of his phone. He laughed humorlessly at himself and again tried not to cry.

_Hey fee, I’m in the pasta isle and was wondering if ok I just realized how stupid this is but if you have a favorite pasta shape? I have penny at home already. I just thought I remembered you liking macaroni or something. Just if you get this message in the next ten minutes call or text me if you want me to get it, otherwise. Well I’ll probably still get it. Ok I’ll uh I’ll be home soon. Bye._

He stared at the transcription, reading and re-reading it, trying to comprehend. When he finally understood what it meant and how kind it was, how casually caring it was, he felt sick. Truly, utterly sick. His stomach felt weird. His mouth was too full of saliva. He was too drunk for anything to _hurt_ , per se, but he suddenly recognized what the hot queasy feeling inside meant.

He scrambled off of the bed and into the bathroom, swinging the door shut behind him. Legs wobbly, he dropped unsteadily to his knees in front of the toilet, banging his elbows down onto the seat. He made a headband of his hands to hold his hair back, and he retched.

He heaved, again and again, and it felt disgustingly cathartic to get it out, like he was rewinding time as he tasted it in reverse: The cider Sylvain had illegally bought for them. The pizza they had split. The whiskey he had drunk alone.

And then there was nothing left. He dry-heaved, but nothing more came up. But still, his stomach wouldn’t stop cramping up, and for once he was in complete agreement with his body. He wished he could go back even further. Cough out his memories, his feelings, his fucking guts.

He kneeled there, dripping sour strings of saliva into the toilet and trembling until the last wave of sickness had passed. As he stared into the toilet bowl, his vision twisted into a whirlpool. Which confused him, because he hadn’t even flushed yet.

When he could finally stand again, he stumbled to the sink to rinse his mouth out several times and splash the tears and sweat from his face. He gulped down a few handfuls of tap water. He brushed his teeth, praying it wouldn’t make him gag again.

He looked at himself in the mirror above the sink and stared hollowly at the image he saw there, all stringy hair and sheet-white skin, bangs matted to his forehead and bruise-like bags under his eyes.

How could Sylvain stand to even look at him?

He returned to the bedroom and made his way around the bed to climb into his side of it—and stopped in place. A plastic sleeve of saltines and an extra glass of water had appeared on his bedside table. And that made him hurt far more than any puking could.

How kind, and how awful. It was too bad no amount of drunkenness could make the caring hurt less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for alcohol and vomiting. (Not just mentions of vomiting. Onscreen vomiting.)
> 
> Surprise! I just realized I'll be without internet for a few days so decided to post early! Enjoy this horrible chapter.
> 
> Also I do not own Be a Broadway Star so I could not actually check which musicals are in it, nor do I care. Thanks <3
> 
> Edit: Also I've now posted my [playlists](https://fangirlasdfghjkl.tumblr.com/tagged/playlist-1) that cover the story thus far chronologically (like, from freshman year until now) for both Felix and Sylvain! Please click through to listen to them on spotify bc for some reason tumblr makes the audio quality shitty


	19. (dis)closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday, May 9th - Sunday, May 10th. Sylvain can't keep his own promises. Or secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings in the end notes! If you know me in real life, you MUST look at them.

Sylvain slept on the couch that night. Though maybe the word “slept” was an overstatement.

Once Felix had left, Sylvain had stayed paralyzed on the couch for several minutes, barely daring to breathe. And definitely not daring to move, because he was panicking, and there was something profoundly wrong with him, and he was horribly, achingly erect.

And Felix had seen. He’d wanted Felix to stay and hurt him more.

He'd closed his eyes, struggling to take deep breaths. He’d willed his body to cool down and his mind to stop buzzing, to stop fixating on the hate in Felix’s voice, and the fire in his eyes, and—

Then he’d heard Felix slam the bathroom door and start puking and felt ten times worse about what he’d been thinking. He had gone to the kitchen, and then quietly darted into his own room to leave water and saltines for Felix on the nightstand.

And now he was back on the couch, because he couldn’t possibly trust himself to sleep in the same bed with Felix like this. But he couldn’t really sleep at all.

The sound of Felix’s voice kept haunting him. First his mind kept trying to replay the sound of Felix singing, and singing as if he knew what the words were supposed to mean. Sylvain had never heard him like that before.

And then he heard Felix’s words echoing in his mind: _Whore. Stupid, selfish slut. Disgusting._ And then he couldn’t stop hearing the choking.

The thought that he had been too much of a coward to do anything while Felix was in the bathroom puking tormented him. And Felix, alone, on his knees, with no one to hold back his hair as he gagged—

Sylvain realized he was absently rubbing his cock through his clothes. He yanked his hand away, disgusted with himself. And then he slid it under his waistband into his underwear.

God, what the fuck was wrong with him? He had tried so hard not to do this—this— _fantasizing_ about Felix, but he had been trying for a year and he couldn’t help it. His resolve was weak, and he kept doing it, and every time he succumbed to the temptation and got off on thoughts of Felix just normalized it, making it easier and easier to give in the next time too. Self-hate was a fucking rollercoaster and he couldn’t stop riding.

And now here he was, the product of all his past mistakes, because everything hurt and he wanted the comfort and he was hard. Hard from hearing Felix tell him how disgusting he was, hard from imagining Felix on his knees, hard from wanting Felix’s hot saliva gushing over his dick.

Sylvain writhed on the couch, sick with worry and fear and excitement at the idea that Felix could walk back into the hallway and see him at any moment. He tried to use the idea to scare himself out of it—but then it was far too late to stop and he was touching himself while thinking about it, imagining what he would do if Felix walked out of the bedroom and found him like this.

The worst thing was, he knew exactly what he would do. He would pull Felix onto his lap. He would hold Felix’s hips down on his cock, and force Felix to feel it, and make sure Felix knew _exactly_ what he did to him.

And even worse, he remembered the sweet little sound Felix had made in the back of his throat that night. He wanted to wring it out of him again.

Sylvain wrenched himself away, rolling onto his side on the couch to break the illusion of Felix atop him. And still, he lay nearly on his stomach and couldn’t stop himself as he rocked his hips, fucking into his fist. He buried his face into the pillow, not sure whether he was doing it to muffle his breathing, or forget where he was, or suffocate himself before he could come.

It was useless. On all three accounts. Sylvain cried out pitifully into the pillow as he came, imagining it was Felix’s slick throat he was fucking instead of his trembling hand. He squeezed tight, as much for punishment as for pleasure. He’d gotten off on hating himself before. He knew just how to do it.

He washed his come-glazed hands in the kitchen sink afterwards. He shuddered watching his come slide down the drain and wondered how he would ever be able to wash dishes again without remembering this moment and stabbing himself with a fork.

Even after washing them, something about his nails still felt slimy and unclean. He washed his hands until they shook, but it was pointless. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding _out, out, out, out, out,_ like his blood wanted to be expunged from his body _._ And his heart was right. The entirety of Neptune’s ocean could not wash him clean of this. He thought about sticking his hands down the drain, but that wouldn’t solve the problem either.

He briefly considered the sink’s garbage disposal. But he didn’t want to wake Felix up if he was sleeping.

Sylvain curled up on the couch, his head hurting from how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut. He tossed and turned for most of the night, knowing that if there was one person who didn’t deserve to hear Felix sing a love song, it was him.

The next day, Sylvain awoke on the couch still wearing his clothes from the day before. He blearily dragged himself to the kitchen for coffee and a bowl of cereal, not having the energy to make anything else. As he watched the coffee dripping slowly into the pot, he found himself wanting answers. Or wanting a chance to explain himself, at the very least.

Things couldn’t go on like this. He ate his cereal, drank his coffee, and decided to do something about it.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he went to the bedroom door and knocked. Not too loud, but not meekly either. “Yes?” Felix’s tone was unreadable through the door. Was he still angry? Had he slept as poorly as Sylvain had?

Or—Sylvain’s heart sank—could Felix have completely forgotten what happened last night? He couldn’t have been _that_ drunk, could he? But Felix had forgotten things before without even reaching the point of throwing up…

“Can I come in? We really need to talk.”

“Yeah.”

Felix was kneeling on the bed, already dressed (and _not_ in the same clothes as the previous day, unlike Sylvain). Felix had his phone in his hand, but he set it down on the nightstand. The one on what Sylvain had come to think of as Felix’s side of the bed. He turned to look at Sylvain with something like pain apparent on his face.

Despite himself, Sylvain was concerned to see Felix looking so washed-out. “How—how are you feeling?”

Felix’s expression became sadder somehow. “I’m okay.”

Sylvain thought the puking last night might beg to differ. He glanced at Felix’s nightstand to reassure himself that Felix was hydrated, if nothing else.

The water glasses were empty. As was the plastic sleeve of saltines.

“What about you?” Felix asked. “Are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know.” Sylvain took a seat on the edge of the bed and stared at his knees. “I’m sorry to do this when you’re clearly worse for the wear, but...we can’t keep doing this.”

Felix swallowed. “This?”

“This—this _thing_ we do, where things happen when we’re drunk and we never talk about them.”

Felix swallowed again.

“And I know this isn’t just about Dorothea at the store,” Sylvain quickly continued, “it’s about the fact that you’re trapped in here with me in the first place. And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hugged Dorothea in the store, I was just—I don’t know, lonely—” His throat caught on the pain of it. “And I never should have bumped into you the way I did last week—I should have done something to cover my face, I just wasn’t thinking clearly because I hadn’t slept. And I admit that’s my own fault too, but—”

His chest ached as he saw Felix looking distressed out of the corner of his eye. “But I swear, I’m not the same irresponsible guy from sophomore year anymore. And I had hoped you would be able to see that. That I’ve changed. But I…I guess I haven’t shown that.”

“No, I _do_ see that you’ve changed.” Felix sounded confused. “I know you didn’t mean to make me stay with you. It wasn’t really about that at all.”

“Then what was it about?”

“It was just me being… I don’t know.” Felix let out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck, I’m the one who should be apologizing! I guess I was just upset—and I thought you were going to…start seeing Dorothea or something.”

“What, like, in person?”

“Like, romantically.”

Sylvain laughed in disbelief. “Yeah, no, I especially don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Felix did not seem to like being laughed at. “And why is that?”

“Well first of all, Dorothea herself has told me she’s bisexual in theory but has yet to meet a guy worth keeping around. And I really don’t think I’d be the guy to change that. Not to mention that we’re in the middle of a fucking pandemic, and she’s dating like three other people already. But also, I…I’m not interested.”

“You’re not?”

“No,” Sylvain said. “I’m not particularly interested in any girls at the moment,” he added before he could think better of it.

He mentally slapped himself for saying it as soon as the words were out, but he couldn’t help his pointless desire to leave that door open on the slim chance that Felix might step through it.

“Okay,” Felix said. “Me neither.”

“…What?”

Felix’s eyes cut away. “I’m not...interested in any girls right now, either.”

Was Felix just… pointing it out as something they had in common? As a weird, roundabout way of saying _I forgive you, we can be friends again_?

“O-okay? I didn’t think you would be anyway, but—”

“I like guys.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m certainly not opposed to them myself—” Sylvain stammered before he got a grip on himself.

“You do?”

“You’re not?”

Sylvain had definitely lost the plot. “Sorry, but what the actual, literal fuck are we talking about?” This was not at all going how he planned.

“Sorry,” said Felix, looking equally confused. “I’m saying that I’m sorry. Everything else is irrelevant—but I’m the one who should be apologizing, not you. I’m literally horrible.”

“Not half as horrible as me.”

“Shut up. God, can you—” Felix visibly ground his teeth. “I’m trying to apologize to you. Please, just let me.”

Self-loathing boiled up in Sylvain. “But I—”

“Just stop. Please.” Felix sighed tersely. “Just let me talk for a minute. I know I suck at it, but please.”

“O-okay…”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been such an asshole to you. You don’t deserve the way I’ve been treating you. And I swear, I didn’t even mean what I said last night. I was way out of line. You’re not—” Felix looked pained. “You’re not any of the things that I said.” Felix looked away like he couldn’t bear to repeat them.

But Sylvain remembered. Slut, whore—

“Aren’t I, though?” Sylvain choked out, feeling so vile that he wanted to crawl out of his skin. He looked down at his hands. Disgusting.

“No,” Felix said firmly. “None of that was true. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, and—I shouldn’t have assumed you would be willing to—to kiss me on Friday night, either. And I—”

What?

Sylvain completely missed whatever Felix said next, too busy trying to untangle implications. Because what the fuck did that mean, and how could Felix remember kissing him—

“It wasn’t the kissing that was the problem,” he interrupted. Because fuck, this whole conversation was the emotional equivalent of falling down the stairs and he just wanted to reach the bottom already.

“Then—then why...?”

“Because you were super drunk, and—” _You left me the last time this happened, and I was afraid you would leave me again._

He couldn’t take this fucking ping-pong game of guilt. And he knew he wasn’t supposed to beg Felix for forgiveness, but he still wanted it so badly. Hadn’t they both done enough things wrong by now?

He couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Felix, we have to talk about what happened last year.”

“I know.”

“We had sex. That night after kiss or slap.”

Felix buried his face into his hands like he couldn’t bear to look or be seen. “I know.”

“But I _swear_ , I never—what?” Sylvain’s ears rang like the words had clapped him on both sides of the head. “You knew? All this time?”

“Of course I knew,” Felix said into his hands. “I didn’t forget.”

The world tilted. That turned _everything_ upside-down.

“But I—what? That means you…what?” Sylvain asked, feeling strangely betrayed. Hurt simmered into anger. “So why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just—I was freaking out, and didn’t know what to say—”

“How about just saying ‘stop’ from the very beginning, if that’s what you meant?”

Felix winced.

“Fuck. Sorry. I really never meant for it to go that far, and I didn’t mean to hurt you, but I know that doesn’t change the fact that I did—” Sylvain’s mind reeled from the amount of things he needed to say all at once. “And I didn’t say anything afterward because I thought you would, I dunno, ask? If you wanted to know? And you never asked, so—”

He suddenly cycled through remorse and back to betrayal again. “But it’s not okay if you let me hurt you. I never wanted you to do that.”

Felix was looking at him like he had three heads.

“You didn’t hurt me. Like I said, I was just freaking out.” Then Felix looked stricken. “So you mean—you spent all this time thinking that you’d—”

“Gotten you blackout drunk and then taken advantage of you?” Sylvain said. “And then hid it from you because I was too much of a coward to own up to it? Yes! Of course I did!”

“You didn’t,” Felix said vehemently. “You didn’t fucking _hurt_ me. God, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t want to remember because I was a fucking mess, and—I thought that _you_ wanted to forget about it!”

“But I—” Sylvain felt like tearing his hair out. “I thought you didn’t even know what had happened! I would’ve thought you didn’t remember it at all, but then we barely ever talked again, so I could tell you that knew _something_ had happened—and whatever part you remembered, you clearly hated it!”

“I never said that!”

“Then why—”

“Why the fuck are we yelling at each other again?” Felix said, distraught. Sylvain could see him gripping the bedcovers tight in his fists by his sides.

Sylvain moved to sit on the bed directly across from Felix, hoping maybe looking into his face as he spoke would make something—anything—make sense again.

And Felix kneeled across from him, biting his lip. Felix reached forward and tentatively put his hand over one of Sylvain’s. Sylvain felt a terrible rush in his blood when Felix’s skin touched his.

“I wasn’t finished apologizing,” said Felix. “I just want us to be okay again. If we can be.”

“I want that too.” More than anything.

“Okay.” Felix took a moment to gather himself. “I’m sorry for cutting you off last year.”

“And I’m sorry for…what happened that night. Can you forgive me?”

Felix looked sad again. “There’s nothing for me to forgive. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Sylvain couldn’t accept it. Forgiveness adulterated his guilt. “But—”

“I’m sorry,” Felix insisted, “for how these past two days have been.”

“I am too.”

“Again, I don’t even know what you’re apologizing for. And last night wasn’t your fault, either.”

Last night.

Sylvain pulled his hand away like he’d been burned. Or was the one doing the burning. “Actually, yes, it really was. If anyone should be apologizing for that, it’s me.” His heart pounded on his ribcage like a hostage trying to kick out a taillight.

“What? Sylvain, _it wasn’t your fault._ You don’t need to—”

“No, really. I’m sorry. About…my reaction.”

Felix reached for his hand again, alarmed for reasons Sylvain couldn’t understand. “Jesus Christ, Sylvain, why would you even think that? What do you have to apologize for? You didn’t even say anything back to me, and I shouldn’t have left you like—like that.”

“But—”

“Your reaction was totally understandable,” Felix said adamantly. “And I should have stayed and helped you instead of just…running away from you and leaving you to deal with it alone. Especially since it was my fault you were... you know, in that state—”

Okay, what the fuck?

“No, you _really_ don’t need to apologize for that,” Sylvain said. “Like, literally, no.”

“Sylvain,” Felix said flatly. “I gave you a fucking anxiety attack.”

“You—what? You mean you didn’t see?”

“See what?”

Well fuck. What a terrible thing to let slip.

“Never mind,” Sylvain said swiftly, already knowing Felix wouldn’t let it go.

“What didn’t I see?”

“Um, that’s why I slept on the couch? Because I kinda got, um, turned on by…? I thought you saw.” Sylvain’s face burned. “Well. This is awkward as hell.”

Felix’s eyes flicked down Sylvain’s body and back up, almost too fast for Sylvain to process. Felix shifted, looking uncomfortable. “It—it doesn’t have to be?”

And Sylvain’s messed up brain was telling him to crash their lips together again. “Fuck.” Panic set in again. “Fuck, I told you there’s something wrong with me. Even now I want you to hurt me, or kiss me, or—”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“Then—”

A strange look came over Felix’s face.

It was an expression Sylvain had come to associate with Felix fighting himself: eyes burning with determined intensity curling in them like wisps of smoke, mouth scrunched up with something resembling distress, teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip. Fear? Apprehension? Reluctance?

It was the face Felix made looking at a menu. It was the face he made watching other people chat and laugh at parties while he stood with a drink in a corner. It was the face he made now.

And only now did Sylvain realize: Felix was looking at him with hunger in his eyes. Felix just never knew how to let himself have the things he wanted most.

“Felix,” Sylvain said, his heart pounding, “if you want this, you’ve gotta make the first move. I just—I can’t do the guesswork right now. You have to start this, and not when you’re drunk. Just say what you want and I’ll believe you.”

“It’s not going to... change our relationship, is it?” Felix asked.

“Of course not,” Sylvain said. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

Felix exhaled. “Right.”

Felix’s hand touched his knee.

“Is—is that what you want?” Sylvain asked, heart sinking. _Is that all you want from me?_

Then Felix’s other hand moved from Sylvain’s and touched his face. Sylvain’s breath caught. Felix’s hand was warm where he cupped one side of his jaw in it.

Oh.

“Is that,” Sylvain asked softly, “what you want?” His stomach fluttered, and a ray of hope gleamed out of where he had sequestered it deep down. One last confirmation before he gave in entirely.

Without answering, Felix stroked his thumb across Sylvain’s bottom lip and back again. Time moved in slow motion. Felix leaned forward, still biting his lip, and Sylvain zeroed in on Felix’s pink mouth. How was Felix going to kiss him with one lip trapped between his teeth?

Sylvain’s eyes fell shut as Felix’s thumb peeled down his bottom lip, parting his lips in the center. He wanted so badly to feel Felix’s lips on his again. It was long overdue. Felix’s thumb slid into his mouth.

Oh.

Sylvain heard a low gasp and realized it had come from him as his jaw dropped open at Felix’s touch. The sound vibrated around Felix’s thumb on his tongue—

The light feeling in Sylvain’s chest settled, like a dissonant chord hanging in the air that had finally reached its resolution. It transmuted into something submissive, hedonistic in his stomach. His needy hands flew up to clutch at Felix’s chest, clinging to his shirt. Felix’s other hand slid up his thigh to his waist.

So it wasn’t a kiss that Felix wanted after all. But that made sense; Felix’s hands had always been attracted to his head.

It wasn’t a kiss, but maybe that was _better_.

Sylvain could feel—no, _taste_ every salty groove of the whorls on Felix’s thumbprint. He sealed his lips around the intrusion and sucked, not sure what had come over him but too deep in to stop. He turned his head inward toward Felix’s hand on his jaw to take his thumb down past the knuckle, down to the palm.

Felix exhaled sharply, and Sylvain shivered at the sound. To know he was affecting Felix made Sylvain’s blood thrum with arousal. He rubbed his tongue fervidly along the thumb’s underside. “Ah,” he said around it, mind hazy, “Fe—”

Felix turned his hand, releasing the gentle hold on the side of Sylvain’s jaw to grip under his chin instead. He pressed the flat of his thumb down into Sylvain’s tongue harder, pinning it down in his mouth.

Sylvain wondered if Felix had just wanted to shut him up all along.

Then Felix pulled his thumb out. Sylvain whined automatically at the loss—until Felix shoved his index and middle finger in instead. Sylvain groaned again, knowingly this time. This was just like kissing Felix—giving him all his attention through his mouth, leaning into it—except Felix’s fingers didn’t kiss back.

Actually, scratch that. Felix’s long fingers stroked Sylvain’s tongue, reaching far enough back that Sylvain could feel his gag reflex try in vain to kick in. The two digits tasted mildly sweet on the tip of his tongue and bitter at the back of his throat. Sylvain swallowed around them, hoping he wasn’t hurting Felix with the teeth clamped around his fingers.

All awareness of his body fell away except for the sensory input of his mouth. He reveled in the debasement, twisting Felix’s shirt tighter in his fists. It felt good, being nothing more than a warm sheath for Felix’s fingers. It made Felix’s other hand near the button of his jeans even more of a surprise.

He gasped as Felix’s hand slipped nimbly under the hem of his shirt to grasp his side. Felix also chose that moment to pull his two fingers in Sylvain’s mouth slightly back. He twisted his wrist so his fingers were stacked vertically before thrusting them back into Sylvain at a different angle.

The motion pried his jaw open wider, forcing him to tip his head back and up. The new angle made him feel even more like he was kneeling reverently before Felix, body open and ready. He groaned at the sweet sacrilege of the imagery. He would gladly get on his knees for this.

The pads of Felix’s curled fingers rubbed one side of the roof of his mouth. Sylvain held his mouth open as the light stroking near his hard palate made his whole mouth feel tingly, practically ticklish.

The hand Felix gripped his side with made Sylvain’s skin feel feverish with the need for stimulation, and he wondered, not for the first time, if his fever had in fact returned with a vengeance and this whole past week with Felix was all a delusion.

Sylvain shifted impatiently where he sat cross-legged on the bed. As he leaned toward Felix, he realized he was slowly grinding his dick into the heel of his own foot and the bed underneath him, mindlessly seeking friction from anywhere.

His hands clenched dumbly at the sheets as he arched his chest forward to better receive Felix’s fingers. His eyes drifted open and were greeted by the incredible sight of Felix. And what a vision he was.

Felix was panting heavily, his face tinted pink. His lips already looked kiss-bitten just from his own biting. His eyes were dark, dilated wide, looking only at Sylvain. He was staring, gaze utterly transfixed on where his fingers sunk into Sylvain’s face.

Then he glanced up and caught Sylvain watching him. “Is that,” Felix panted, “what you want?” Sylvain whimpered around the fingers. Yes. Undoubtedly yes.

Without giving Sylvain any time to verbalize his response, Felix’s fingers withdrew from his mouth and joined his other hand under Sylvain’s shirt, grasping one nipple and rolling it between his saliva-slick fingers. Oh no. Sylvain liked that too. “Oh—”

The cool, slippery touch against his nipple turned into a sharp pinch, and then a harsh twist bordering on just this side of painful. The sensation made Sylvain twitch and gasp, sending a zap of electricity down his spine.

Felix’s hand then continued its ascent up his chest, until his hardened nipple was pressed into the center of Felix’s warm, smooth palm. The contrast drove Sylvain crazy. With his mouth now unoccupied, every panting exhale came as a quiet “hah—hah—”

Hadn’t he expected this to go differently somehow? Hadn’t he been the one offering something to Felix? Something _else_?

That didn’t matter now. He wanted to receive whatever Felix wanted to give.

Felix was still drinking it all in with his eyes. He hungrily surveyed his work and then rucked up Sylvain’s shirt, holding it bunched up with his saliva-wet fingers wrapped around Sylvain’s shoulder. He leaned down and forward, tilting his head in preparation. Sylvain truly felt like he was dreaming. The sight was too hot to be real.

His eyes fell shut the second that Felix’s lips touched the center of his chest. Felix kissed him there once, then licked a curve along the underside of his pec before catching the nipple with his lips, between his teeth. “Fuck—” Sylvain shuddered and let his head fall back. His hands rose on instinct to curl into Felix’s tied-back hair and clutch at the back of his head. Having all of Felix’s attention made him felt weightless.

But he was not, as it turned out, weightless. By arching his back and pulling Felix in closer, Sylvain had pulled their combined center of gravity too far toward himself. He tumbled backward onto the bed, pulling Felix down on top of him.

Felix was pulled forward from his kneeling position and caught his weight in his hands—one by Sylvain’s shoulder, the other by his waist. His face hovered just above Sylvain’s chest. But _god_ , being horizontal with Felix felt more intimate, made Sylvain’s heart feel things it shouldn’t feel so easily.

“Ah, ah—sorry—” Sylvain flushed as he felt his dick pressed between his stomach and Felix’s. There was no way Felix could be unaware of it now.

“Don’t be,” Felix said, his voice husky. Felix’s pupils dilated even more, so dark and inviting that Sylvain wanted to fall into them. And god, it was way better doing this in the daytime than it had been at night the first time, because Sylvain could see every detail of the adorable concentration on Felix’s face. He could look at him and know that Felix’s eyes were wide because they were looking at _him._

Sylvain let his arms fall from around Felix’s neck to lay outstretched over his head in a pose of complete surrender. “You can touch me. O-only if you want to.” 

“I—” Felix looked wild and panicked for a moment, and for a terrifying moment Sylvain thought this would be a repeat of last time. “Yeah,” Felix finally said, moving the hand near Sylvain’s waist to trace down his side to his pants. “If that’s what you want, too.”

Felix paused and just looked at him.

“What?” Sylvain asked, strangely self-conscious.

“You can say no if you want.”

“I—” Sylvain suddenly realized no one had actually said that to him before.

“You can say no,” Felix repeated. He looked ashamed. “I mean, if it wasn’t good last time—”

“God, Felix, it was so good last time,” Sylvain confessed, his hands rising to touch Felix’s face. “I want this. I really, really want this—”

Felix’s hand thrust into his underwear.

His fingers scrabbled at Sylvain, making his gasp in equal parts arousal and shock. Felix grabbed his cock and started rubbing it, in a way Sylvain really liked—thumb smoothing over the head, fingers gently squeezing. Sylvain made a quiet sound of approval, but Felix seemed to take it for impatience.

Felix’s touch got rougher. Clumsier. He covered up his clumsiness with aggression, making all of his motions seem ferociously certain, but he clearly wasn’t sure at all—he kept pausing like he thought he’d done something wrong, and then working Sylvain harder to make up for it.

When Felix’s frantic pumping of his cock became more uncomfortable than pleasurable, Sylvain couldn’t help a slight grimace. “Whoa, Felix, damn, calm down,” he panted in a rush. It had come so naturally to them last time, so why…?

Felix glanced back and forth between Sylvain’s face and the hand in his pants, and his face went redder. Still furiously jerking Sylvain, he said, “Like this?”

Frustrated and moaning, Sylvain cried out, “I don’t know!” Was last time just a fluke, then…? He kept pressing himself closer, rocking his hips up into Felix’s hand to try to establish some rhythm, some kind of—reciprocity? Partnership?

Why wasn’t this enough?

Felix could obviously still tell something wasn’t working. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know!” Sylvain said again, confused by his own answer.

Felix looked like he was considering stopping. “Fuck, sorry, you deserve better than this—”

Sylvain twisted up his face and faked a small moan to encourage Felix, something he had done for countless other people. And then he realized how counterproductive that was. Why was he still pretending?

He decided to stop. “Felix, ah, I like it slower,” he admitted, twisting his head away to hide his face in the pillows.

“Okay,” Felix said, sounding relieved to have concrete guidance to follow. His hand went back to the gentle rubbing, making Sylvain moan genuinely this time. “Like this?” Felix asked again, quieter this time.

Fuck. The slightest hint of sweetness from Felix made Sylvain feel more than anything that could be done to him physically. “Yeah,” Sylvain said breathlessly as heat washed through him. “Ah, just like that. And—and maybe you could kiss me? If you want.”

Felix wordlessly made eye contact with him, no longer needing to look at his hand as it moved. His expression was some mix of timid and…hopeful?

Felix moved forward and leaned down. He kissed Sylvain, softly, and oh, that was what Sylvain had been missing so much. The gentle, lingering kiss seemed insanely chaste and innocent after everything else Felix had done. It felt like falling in love from scratch all over again. _Why didn’t we start with this?_

Felix pulled away after that one soft kiss. Sylvain tried not to be too disappointed. “What else?” Felix asked, still hushed.

“Can you—can you talk to me?” asked Sylvain, craving more of his voice.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything. It doesn’t matter. Whatever you want. Just say whatever you’re thinking.”

Felix hesitated. “I—I don’t know how.”

It wasn’t immediately clear what Felix was talking about. Did he not know how to say what he was thinking? Or was that an _example_ of what he was thinking—that he didn’t know how to do this, any of this?

“Um, I can start,” Sylvain offered, feeling vulnerable but hungry, willing to try. “I…” He breathed for a second before pulling the words together. “I like feeling your fingers on me. And I liked them in my mouth, too.”

Felix flushed and gaped at him for a moment, and then Sylvain became aware that while Felix’s hand was occupied between his legs, Felix’s dick was grinding on his thigh, giving a particularly strong thrust in response to his words. Sylvain moaned at the mere thought of it.

“Yeah, I like this too,” Felix finally said, though it sounded like he was struggling to get the words out. “I—God, what do you want me to say? That I _really_ like this?”

“Do you?” Sylvain couldn’t keep the desperation out of his voice.

Felix made a sound like frustration. “Can’t I just show you?”

His free hand grabbed Sylvain’s bent knee and _pressed_ it down to the side, pushing until it touched the mattress. Something about that made Sylvain’s hips melt open, surprising them both with his flexibility. Sylvain gave an embarrassing yelp like a hiccup at how open he felt and how much he liked it.

But it also made the crotch of Sylvain’s pants stretch prohibitively tight over Felix’s hand around him. _We keep doing things in the wrong order_ , he thought dizzily. “Can I take these off?”

“I can,” Felix volunteered, tugging Sylvain’s pants down roughly but leaving his boxers on. Then Felix slipped his hand into the boxers again and gave Sylvain another perfect, slow pump.

Sylvain could already feel himself coming apart shockingly fast. Felix was touching him, and his whole body was flushed, and— “God, that feels so good.” The words just slipped out of him.

“Good.”

“Hey Felix,” Sylvain said quietly, still fighting his fear that once this ended, something would be over for good. “I’m close.” Something about saying it made him want to cry. “Oh, I’m so close, Felix,” he said desperately. “Can I—” He broke off into a whimper as Felix kissed along his throat.

And Felix kissed his jaw, and kissed his mouth, and said, “Yes.”

“Oh, please, please—” Felix pressed Sylvain’s leg down hard again, and Sylvain shivered, slightly at first, and then his whole body was shaking hard as he let the climax take him.

His hips bucked on instinct, spilling into Felix’s hand. He lost all sense of himself for a moment, gasping from the heady feeling sweeping through him. Felix’s hands and lips guided him through it, kissing his neck, stroking him beautifully slow, dragging out the orgasm impossibly long.

“Mmm, Fe—” Sylvain caught himself in the middle of Felix’s name and tossed his head to the side, biting his lip as he came. Felix gently turned his chin and kissed his lip free again.

It was only after Sylvain’s senses returned to him that he realized just “Fe” was far more intimate than “Felix”. But he didn’t come to his senses for a long, long time.

When he finally gave one last shudder and fell limp, he threw an arm over his face to hide the flush he was sure was blooming in his skin. The reality of what had just happened was still sinking in. He was almost afraid to open his eyes and see how Felix was looking at him.

Everything in him begged him to ask Felix if he was going to leave again, but he restrained himself and stayed silent. He was too lost in the mix of feelings crashing over him. It made the orgasm seem almost peaceful by comparison. He opened his mouth to apologize. “I—”

“That was good,” Felix cut him off. Sylvain blinked his eyes open to find Felix’s face an inch from his own, watching him intently. Felix gently maneuvered Sylvain’s arms over his head, a move Sylvain could make no sense of until he realized Felix was pulling off his shirt, which had been bunched up to his armpits this whole time. “So you better not be worrying about it.”

Sylvain couldn’t help a faint smile as he watched Felix discreetly wipe his hands on the shirt before tossing it into the laundry basket. Felix almost missed. The shirt hung over one side of the basket.

A small laugh escaped Sylvain, because _of course_ they had done things in the wrong order, of course it was messy, and desperate, and the most authentic thing he’d ever had. Because it was them, and he’d felt every second of it.

Felix turned to him, looking a little mortified. “Really. That was good. Right?”

Was Felix… reassuring him? Sylvain’s heart melted. Maybe they could start in the wrong place and find their way from there.

“Wasn’t it?” Felix asked, confused by Sylvain’s lack of response. “Was it not good?”

“No!” Sylvain said quickly. “I mean—yeah, it was great. Thanks.”

Felix looked at him with something like kindness, or pity, or regret. “So we're okay?"

"Yeah."

"And you’re okay?”

“God, yes,” Sylvain laughed breathlessly. “Though I kinda feel like I’ve dislocated my leg. Is that possible?”

“Oh fuck, sorry—” Felix sat up and took his weight off of it, guiding Sylvain’s leg into a more natural position.

“Don’t be sorry,” Sylvain laughed, still lightheaded with happiness. “I liked it.”

Felix’s expression turned into amusement. “Is this your first sex-related injury?”

“No. Not by a long shot." Sylvain chuckled and stroked along Felix’s forearms. "How about you?”

“What do you mean?” Felix asked. “You didn’t hurt me at all.”

He gave Felix a wry smile. “I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sexually explicit content, some self-hate/self-harm ideation, and referenced vomiting. (Could be read as emeto...???)
> 
> And if you know me irl.... I honestly don't know what to tell you. It's explicit at the beginning, and the end, and in the middle they talk. I don't know how to help you. And it's just gonna be more explicit from here on out.
> 
> Also, I fucking did battle with this chapter. I fought tooth and nail with this chapter. I think I rewrote it like 4 times, and now I'm just saying fuck it and posting it anyway. So I hope people like it, or hate it, or something, because god! Getting these two disasters to communicate believably was like pulling teeth!


	20. keeping together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday, May 10th. Felix tries to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings in the end notes! If you know me in real life... just skip this chapter or pretend to.

Sylvain sat up to face Felix and said, “I wanna return the favor.”

Moment of truth. Despite how much touching Sylvain had turned him on—which is to say, _very_ much—Felix hesitated. Somehow touching Sylvain didn’t feel as dangerous as letting Sylvain touch him, but Felix wanted it more badly that Sylvain could possibly know.

“You don’t have to feel…obligated,” Felix said haltingly. Because if Sylvain had just wanted to get off—

“I don’t feel obligated.” Sylvain’s eyes were bright and clear as he fixed his gaze upon Felix. “I just really, truly want to.” He stated it like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Are you sure?”

“God, Felix,” Sylvain said with a strange half-smile, “I would make you feel so good if you let me.”

Felix’s whole being ached to let him.

If Felix were strong, he wouldn’t let himself have a taste of something he couldn’t keep. But Felix was weak. “Okay,” he said finally.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said okay.” Felix spoke a bit louder though it killed him to do so.

“Just okay?” Sylvain asked. With a teasing little smile, like the cocky bastard he was.

Felix was blushing like mad as he enunciated, “More than just okay.” He’d never been good at saying yes.

But just like that, Sylvain was so eager to please. He leaned in closer to Felix so fast that it made Felix dizzy. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just tell me what you like,” Sylvain said. God, that phrasing made a million different images flash through Felix’s mind, each more distracting than the last.

“Anything,” he blurted. “Anything. I don’t know. Do whatever you want.” He turned his face as if to shy away from Sylvain, but found he couldn’t look away. The look Sylvain was giving him held him captive.

Because Sylvain was clearly riled up as well, if his face was any indication. His pupils were blown wide, his cheeks dusted with a healthy pink glow. “Just please tell me if you want me to stop doing something. Or”—his eyelids lowered a degree— “if you want me to do more of something.” Felix’s breath caught in his throat. “Okay?”

Felix covered his whole face with his hands. “Fine. I will.” He peeked between his fingers to see the small smile on Sylvain’s face.

Sylvain placed his hands over Felix’s and gently lifted them away from his face. He guided Felix’s hands to rest on his own face. Felix could feel the slightest hint of stubble along Sylvain’s jaw. And when Sylvain released his hands, Felix was so willing to obey that his hands almost followed Sylvain’s lead automatically before he realized Sylvain had already put his hands exactly where he wanted them.

Then Sylvain’s arms draped over his shoulders, hands sliding to the back of his head. He pulled Felix’s hair loose from its bun. “Just kiss me the way that you like to be kissed.”

 _The way I like to be kissed?_ Felix’s only thought was _by you, only by you._

Sylvain wove his hands into Felix’s hair, sliding his fingertips along his scalp above his ear, and, while Felix was distracted by the fingers in his hair, leaned in to kiss him. He paused a hair’s breadth away, letting Felix press forward to meet him. And if Felix hadn’t been completely sure what he wanted before, he was sure now. Even if it was only temporary, he wanted to know what it was like to be with Sylvain.

In the same way that Felix had never understood how Sylvain always knew what to say, he never understood how Sylvain knew how to kiss him _perfectly._ Sylvain’s mouth moved firmly, slowly, refusing to rush. But he never fell into a predictable pattern; a rhythm, yes, but his technique constantly shifted. One minute his lips were firm on Felix’s, and the next minute Felix would find himself leaning hungrily forward when Sylvain drew back teasingly. His mind spun, barely able to keep up. But that was okay. All he had to do was follow Sylvain’s lead.

And Sylvain’s mouth was just so _hot_ in ways Felix couldn’t describe in words. It went beyond just his warm breath on Felix’s lips when they pulled apart and the slick heat of his tongue when they came back together; his mouth enchanted Felix even between kisses. Whenever Felix let his eyes drift open, Sylvain’s lips—the same lips that he had seen smile, grin, and pout a million times—captured his attention as they revealed forms Felix had never seen before.

When Sylvain was breathing heavily, his lips remained parted with a tiny, shadowy O in their center. When he tilted his head, leaning forward to meet Felix open-mouthed, Felix could see the barest hint of his tongue reaching forward in preparation to lick into Felix’s mouth. And all the while, the sight of those rosy lips, framed by Felix’s hands on his cheeks...

Okay, Felix would admit it. He was a little obsessed with that mouth. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it felt having his fingers in it. If he hadn’t liked kissing it so much, he would have plunged his thumb into it again.

Sometimes Sylvain would lick over his upper lip to wet it, pinning it between teeth and tongue for the briefest second. It made the angle of his philtrum and the two peaks of his upper lip even more distracting when they sprang free from under his tongue, newly glistening.

Sometimes Sylvain would do the same with his lower lip, biting one side of it just long enough for Felix to see a flash of a canine at the corner of his mouth. The sharp tip would drag across the pink of his lip in a way that made Felix shiver. For once, he didn’t even think Sylvain was doing it on purpose.

And when their mouths came back together, Felix got swept right back up into Sylvain’s relentlessly attentive kissing. Sylvain tilted his head at the perfect angle for their mouths to slot together. Eventually Felix allowed his tongue to reach out and meet Sylvain’s in little furtive licks.

The sheer amount of sensory detail—slick, warm, bumpy as he felt Sylvain’s taste buds with his own—had Felix making involuntary little noises in the back of his throat. The noises stayed trapped between his lips and Sylvain’s, but they made Sylvain kiss him deeper, as though he wanted to scoop up the sounds and eat them out of Felix’s mouth.

And then Sylvain did—did _something_ with his tongue, and Felix didn’t even know what, but he was gasping from it. Sylvain nibbled ever so slightly on Felix’s bottom lip, and then held it between his teeth and _tugged_.

Felix, in spite of his best efforts, moaned.

He felt thoroughly exposed by his own voice, and for a second he felt like he was back there with Sylvain on their dorm room carpet—coming in his pants in a hot sticky rush and burning with shame, doing anything it took to make sure Sylvain never found out. A body was always a traitorous thing to have.

Sylvain, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil, said, “Mmm, you’re so vocal,” with an appreciative kiss on his jaw.

Felix pulled himself together enough to mutter, “That was involuntary,” and then promptly wonder why the hell he admitted that.

“Even better,” said Sylvain, smiling. “I like hearing you.” Felix’s heart tumbled over itself trying to process that.

Sylvain’s hands, which had been toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, migrated to skimming his shoulders and gliding down his shoulder blades. Sylvain kept leaning closer and closer into Felix, until not only their faces brushed together, but their chests, too.

Sylvain wrapped his arms around Felix’s shoulders, pulling him closer even as Felix still held Sylvain’s jaw fiercely in his hands. Then Sylvain gave Felix’s shirt a questioning tug. Felix raised his arms to comply, letting him take it off of him.

He instinctively crossed his arms over his stomach as soon as the shirt was off. He knew without looking down that the mottled blush on his cheeks was spilling down his neck and chest too. But Sylvain was already mostly naked, so why was this so hard…?

Sylvain reached for his hands and pulled Felix’s fists to his own chest, clutching them so tight against him that Felix could feel his heartbeat. “Hey,” he said softly, “you’re really, really cute. You know that, right?” He started kissing the center of Felix’s chest, and Felix wanted to melt into a puddle.

“Ugh, stop that,” Felix grumbled, looking away and trying to dig up annoyance instead of the naked emotion he was feeling.

He found himself disappointed when Sylvain immediately drew back. “Sorry, was that not okay? I—”

“Just kidding. Do it again.” He saw confusion cloud Sylvain’s eyes before it drained away. Sylvain kissed his chest again.

But Felix couldn’t stop shying away, and he didn’t know why. He shivered with pleasure even as his hands pressed back against Sylvain’s chest. Why were they doing that? He wanted Sylvain closer, not farther.

“Sorry,” he said, averting his eyes. “Sorry this is so—so difficult for me. But I swear, I’m trying, I just—”

“I know.” Sylvain soothingly stroked his arm. “You don’t have to try so hard, y’know. We don’t have to.”

“But I want this! I just don’t know how…how to…”

“Do you trust me?” Sylvain breathed the question against the side of his neck.

“Yes.” That part was easy.

“Then we’ll figure it out. Here—” Sylvain released his hands. “Turn around.”

Holy shit, okay.

Felix did as he was told, moving to sit with his back to Sylvain. His mind reeled at all the possibilities—Sylvain pushing him flat onto his stomach, shoving him bodily into the mattress, maybe pinning his hands over his head by the wrists. Or maybe Sylvain would command him onto his hands and knees for access to play with his hair, knead his ass—were these the things he feared, or wanted?

“Knees further apart.”

Felix swallowed thickly. Again he obeyed, and a powerful, heady sensation rushed through him. Fuck, relinquishing control felt so awfully _good_. How—why—

“That’s it,” Sylvain said. His voice was guttural, colored with arousal. Felix felt it in his stomach. He understood now why people said turn-ons were often more psychological than physical. Whatever Sylvain was doing to him was one hell of a drug. Without even touching him, just the idea of doing what he wanted, performing for him—

He felt Sylvain shuffle forward behind him, his knees moving between Felix’s legs. He slotted his calves along the insides of Felix’s. His legs nudged Felix’s knees even further apart, making him tremble.

Sylvain’s steady hands gripped his waist as he aligned their hips. Oh god, oh fuck—Felix held his breath in anticipation. Sylvain tugged Felix’s hips back to meet his with both hands.

But then he did something unexpected. He lowered himself into a kneeling position on the bed, sitting back on his heels. And he pulled Felix’s hips down with him, seating Felix’s ass in his lap. He spread his legs more between Felix’s knees, pushing Felix’s legs open to an obscenely wide angle.

“You look so good like this,” Sylvain said, voice hushed. “Do you like this?”

 _Yes,_ was Felix’s immediate reaction. His face burned. “Why do you keep asking?” he asked stubbornly.

“Felix, I’m not asking to embarrass you,” Sylvain said, exasperated. “I’m asking because I would be an asshole to not care whether you even like what I’m doing or not.”

“Right. Well, just assume I like it unless I say otherwise.”

“I just—I don’t want to accidentally push your boundaries.”

“Sylvain,” Felix said, impatient, “I promise. You haven’t even touched my boundaries yet.”

(And Felix didn’t know how yet, but he wanted him to.)

Sylvain brushed Felix’s hair aside, fingertips trailing in a diagonal from one side of his neck to the other. The ends of Felix’s hair swept soft and featherlike over his shoulder, revealing his neck for Sylvain to nuzzle and kiss from behind. Sylvain wrapped both arms around Felix’s bare torso and pulled him close, close as could be, until his entire chest was flush with Felix’s back. Felix could feel the two rubbery peaks of Sylvain’s nipples where they pressed into his shoulder blades.

He nearly moaned at all the competing feelings—so vulnerable with his legs spread wide, so snug with the sweet constriction of Sylvain’s arms around him—before he caught himself and muffled the sound with the back of his hand over his mouth.

“I wanna hear you,” said Sylvain. Even that sent a zing of arousal to Felix’s brain. He nodded and lowered his hand.

Then Sylvain’s mouth on his neck suddenly made it so he couldn’t stay still any longer. His body reacted, twitching almost imperceptibly with each kiss. He couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands, so he leaned forward slightly and planted his palms on Sylvain’s thighs where they emerged between his own, arching his back.

Sylvain swayed forward with him to stay pressed against him. They arched seamlessly together, from Felix’s ass on Sylvain’s lap all the way up to Sylvain’s mouth on the side of his neck. The new position made Felix’s hips hinge at a tighter angle, making him even more aware that he was slowly rocking his ass back and forth against Sylvain’s crotch.

Felix’s mind kept suggesting more things to try to hide—his sweaty palms, his disgraceful panting, the view Sylvain must have of him—he tried his best to push the thoughts away. He wanted to enjoy this, wanted to find out just how good he was capable of feeling with Sylvain’s skin on his. Sylvain rested his forehead for a second on Felix’s shoulder, and he didn’t think he’d ever felt anything better.

Felix didn’t know what he had been expecting, but nothing that he had imagined was as intense, as intimate, as this reality. It felt like nearly too much affection to handle. The way Sylvain was touching him was, like, _insanely_ tender—hugging Felix’s bare torso so protectively in his arms, peppering kisses on everything his lips could reach.

The kisses in particular were driving him crazy, the petal-soft touch of Sylvain’s lips making him feel weak. Felix shivered and blurted out, “I like that. More of that.”

“Yeah?” He could hear the smile in Sylvain’s voice, and it sounded so sweet.

Sylvain kissed him, and kissed him, and tirelessly kissed him—up to his earlobe, in his hair on the side of his head, in the crook of his neck, on his shoulder. With no tongue and no teeth, just the slow movement of his lips. Sylvain kissed the base of his skull, holding his hair to one side, and then continued kissing down the vertebrae of his neck. His lips lingered on the knobby vertebra between his shoulders that Felix had always thought stuck out too much.

A small sound escaped Felix at the fondness of the action. He had never thought the back of his neck could such an erogenous zone. (But then again, maybe it was more psychological than physical.)

Each kiss sent warm pleasure spilling down the muscles of Felix’s back, all the way to the base of his spine. The lighter and more delicate the kiss, the deeper it seemed to affect him. Sylvain caught on to what made Felix moan the most, and he adjusted his technique flawlessly. He had always been a fast learner, after all.

And after every sound he wrung from Felix, Sylvain groaned quietly too, as if he were the one being showered in pleasure and not vice versa. The low rumble of his voice made Felix even more reactive, gasping and squirming with sensitivity.

“Sorry, I—” he broke off, choking back a vulnerable sound. “I don’t know why I’m so...vocal.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it. I like it. I really, really like it.” Sylvain’s voice at his ear just made him shiver and let out another embarrassing sound as Sylvain resumed peppering him in kisses. “And there doesn’t have to be a reason. Maybe it just means you like it, too.” Felix tried so hard to hold himself together.

Sylvain’s face stayed buried in the back of his neck like it was his only source of oxygen. “So cute,” Sylvain murmured. Felix couldn’t help grinding his ass back into Sylvain in tiny indulgent circles. He would be self-conscious of the way he was writhing if his brain hadn’t already short-circuited. “Feeling good?” Sylvain asked in a hushed voice.

“Ah—yes, feels—” Felix’s face burned when he realized how wrecked his own voice sounded. He covered his face with his hands again, though Sylvain couldn’t see his face to begin with. Now only Sylvain’s arms around his chest kept him balanced as he trembled. “Please, don’t ask me—I can’t—”

He broke off with a whine and went slack, letting his hands drop back onto Sylvain’s thighs. Felix had never heard his own voice could sound so breathy and desperate.

Sylvain pinned Felix’s torso to his with one arm across his chest, palm pressed flat at center of Felix’s upper chest, fingers splayed against his collarbone, palm against his heart. “I’ve got you,” Sylvain said.

 _Yes, you do,_ Felix almost said. Instead he leaned his head back onto Sylvain’s shoulder, unable to hold himself together in all the ways he ought to.

Sylvain hadn’t touched Felix below the waist since he first pulled him into his lap, but that didn’t stop Felix’s cock from throbbing with insistent desire. He was still wearing his pants, though, and he mentally cursed himself for putting on tight jeans that morning. He wished there were some way to magically remove them while remaining wrapped up tight in Sylvain’s arms.

Sylvain’s free hand crept down Felix’s abdomen. Felix’s stomach was stretched taut from how his back was arched, but even so, he involuntarily sucked it in from the surprise of Sylvain’s touch. Sylvain paused with his hand cupping the soft curve just below his navel. His thumb petted a line from Felix’s navel down along the trail of fine hairs that led toward the button of his jeans and back up again.

The sensation of Sylvain’s hand on him seemed to coax heat in the pit of Felix’s stomach from the inside out. As the pleasure coiled under Sylvain’s palm, Felix cried out and ground his hips back harder. Sylvain was panting hotly against his neck and murmuring something, words Felix only felt on his ear without comprehending.

His face turned helplessly to one side as he arched his back. He breathed raggedly as he leaned the side of his head against Sylvain’s shoulder. He never stopped rolling his hips in Sylvain’s lap. “Come on, Sylvain, come on—”

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this.” Only Sylvain had the kind of uncaring confidence to say shit like that and pull it off enough to make it sexy. “Still feeling good?”

A responding moan escaped Felix’s throat. “I—oh, oh—” He could barely get the words together. “Yes, _yes_ , just—god, don’t make me say it.”

Sylvain’s voice did evil things to his mind as he said, “But it’s so cute to hear you say it,” and kissed Felix’s ear. The hand on Felix’s stomach fell to the crotch of his pants, slowly brushing up the side of Felix’s neglected cock. A calculated move, perfectly timed to make Felix shudder again in need.

And with Sylvain’s hand on his chest, the clever tongue licking around the piercings in the cartilage of his ear, the voice penetrating into his mind—the need was overwhelming.

“Sylvain—” He broke off, embarrassment telling him to stop, to push Sylvain away again.

“Felix,” Sylvain whined, sounding needy himself. Felix’s dick throbbed between his legs. “Let me hear you. Please?”

There was no threat, no ultimatum, no “or else”, but Felix’s voice broke as he gave in and said, just above a whisper, “Yeah, it feels good—feels so good, Sylvain, you’re so good.” Sylvain rubbed his inner thigh.

And now that he’d started speaking, the words wouldn’t stop coming. “Oh, Sylvain—touch me. There, touch me there—” He keened and melted even more into Sylvain’s embrace. “Ah, _fuck_ , I just really need your hands on me—”

Sylvain’s hand fumbled at the front of Felix’s pants for a moment. A little huff of laughter, a cross between nervous and amused, escaped Sylvain. “Hey, help me get these off?” He sounded a little apologetic. Felix found it impossibly endearing.

“Yeah.” Felix rose up from Sylvain’s lap onto his knees to allow Sylvain to tug his pants and underwear down. He awkwardly tried to pull them off, sliding one leg of the pants down with both hands. He lifted one bent knee to leave the pants bunched at his ankle.

He shoved the other pant leg down to match and laughed quietly to himself—oh god, how must he look to Sylvain right now? He only succeeded at yanking one foot completely free before Sylvain pulled him greedily back down onto his lap.

The little bit of manhandling sent a jolt straight to Felix’s dick. Oh fuck, was that something he was into? Figured he would be. But hopefully there would be time to figure that out later.

The more pressing issue was that yet again, he couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. Without really deciding to, he reached behind his head, searching for some part of Sylvain to hold onto. His fingers found the familiar texture of Sylvain’s hair, and he sighed in relief. With his elbows still high in the air, Felix gripped the back of Sylvain’s head, urging him closer.

Sylvain’s hands explored the newly bared expanse of his body, tracing the lines of Felix’s spine downward. His thumbs circled the dimples on Felix’s lower back. Then one hand slid an inch lower and brushed lightly, back and forth, over a spot high on one side of his ass.

“You’re still bruised?” Sylvain asked, surprised. “Or did you somehow fall on your ass again?”

“No, that’s—” Felix’s voice fell quiet as he realized what he was admitting to. “It’s a birthmark.” He had totally forgotten about the blue spot and the possibility of Sylvain seeing it.

“You have a _blue_ birthmark?” Sylvain traced its oval outline curiously.

Felix bit his lip, feeling his face heat. “Yeah.” He had hoped it would go away with age, or at least become less noticeable. Sylvain’s thumb pressed down, sinking experimentally into Felix’s flesh, like he was testing his reaction.

Did he think Felix was lying? Well, he wasn’t; it really was a birthmark and not a bruise, so there was no pain from pressing into the spot. And if Felix remembered correctly, the mark was the perfect size and shape for pressing a thumb into—oh. For _Sylvain_ to press _his_ thumb into. Oh. This meant something.

Sylvain’s whole hand now kneaded the flesh of his ass, thumb still digging into the spot. Felix found he liked the firm pressure of Sylvain’s hands, though he would never say it.

Sylvain’s hands continued their exploration toward his legs, pausing at the side of his hip. “You’re so fucking cute,” Sylvain said, voice hushed with something like surprise. He brushed the flat of his fingernails across the pale lattice of stretch marks that extended across Felix’s skin, as if marveling at their texture and patterning. The unexpected sense of intimacy that welled up within Felix made him gasp.

Sylvain must have misinterpreted the noise, because he quickly moved his hands back up to Felix’s waist. “Was that not okay?”

“I mean, it’s fine, physically,” Felix said, heart pounding. “But there’s no need to make me feel like a freak about it.”

“Huh?”

“Surely this isn’t the first time you’ve seen stretch marks,” Felix said, not understanding why Sylvain was confused.

“Oh. I guess I... never noticed them on anyone else before?”

Felix felt himself flush. His heart seemed to get foolishly more invested with each word Sylvain spoke, making it harder and harder to separate the sex from the context of their friendship and the very real affection Felix had been feeling too much of recently.

Sylvain’s hands slid lower to knead the sides of his hips. “So, um, no tattoos?”

Was that supposed to be a change of subject? “Where the fuck did you think I would be hiding a tattoo?”

“I dunno,” Sylvain said. “A tramp stamp, maybe?”

Felix twisted to elbow him.

“Hey!” Sylvain laughed, wrapping his arms around Felix’s chest from behind. “I also kinda hoped you had nipple piercings. You know, since you wear your towel like a girl—” Felix elbowed him again. “—but that’s also cute all on its own, too!” Sylvain laughed lightly.

And Felix’s body physically twitched with the desire to turn around and kiss Sylvain all over his cute face—and he realized that this was exactly what he had feared: that baring his body would be baring his emotions, too.

And his emotions were far, far too much. He was already devastated by how much this meant to him, especially if it was only casual messing around for Sylvain. He tried desperately not to cave in on himself at the thought.

“Enough with the talking,” he growled. If he wanted to not show it, he would need to steer away from the sweet normalcy of joking around with Sylvain.

“What, you don’t like it?” Sylvain teased. After a second he added, “I can stop, though. Sorry. If I’ve made it weird.”

“I mean—it’s not weird unless you make it weird—”

Sylvain chuckled, and even that sound made Felix feel warm inside. “Oh baby, this is gonna get so weird.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Felix snapped, “do you always make sex as awkward and embarrassing” — _and intimate and personal_ — “as possible?”

“No,” Sylvain said. “But for you? Yes.”

Felix’s traitorous heart clenched painfully tight. “Sylvain, can you please stop making jokes for two seconds? Can we just get on with it already?” His body needed Sylvain’s touch to distract him from his thoughts. “I don’t want to talk. Just touch me.”

“It wasn’t…” Sylvain said quietly. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Sorry,” Felix said, feeling awful. “Fuck, I’m being an asshole again. Sorry this is so hard for me—but I _want_ this. I _want_ to. Fuck, I really—”

Sylvain kissed his neck and said, “I know.”

It took everything in Felix not to turn around and hug to death. Because who else could ever know and accept him like this?

“It’ll get easier,” said Sylvain. He kissed Felix’s shoulder and hugged him tight. “I’ve got you.”

Felix closed his eyes and leaned back into it, drowning in the feeling. “I know.” He couldn’t pretend to feel nothing about this. “Okay. I want to keep going.”

“Okay.”

Reaching down to Felix’s hips again, Sylvain used the strength of his hands to grind Felix down onto him. Felix gasped, and this time it was undeniably a sound of pleasure. He guiltily decided that yes, he definitely did like letting Sylvain manhandle him.

Not to mention, the feeling of grinding on Sylvain’s lap was a million times more intense now that he was naked. Nothing but Sylvain’s boxers separated them. He could feel Sylvain’s dick through the thin fabric, and—fuck, Sylvain was hard again?

Felix took over control of the rocking motion and pushed backward to feel Sylvain’s clothed length slide along the cleft of his ass, and—holy shit. The fabric texture rubbing against his hole felt unexpectedly good. “Oh, holy fuck—”

Had he said that aloud? He couldn’t bring himself to care. It was safer to be accidentally talking about the feelings in his body than the ones in his head anyway.

He rocked his hips forward and pushed them back again, panting raggedly. The friction caused by the movement was delicious. He did it again. He moaned and heard Sylvain moan too, his nose brushing Felix’s neck. Felix’s whole body tingled with pent-up energy. “Ah, Sylvain, Sylvain—”

Then Sylvain’s hand finally wrapped around his cock. He started stroking, and Felix could have cried at the relief. He had been so turned on for so long that his cock was already slick with precome and begging for stimulation.

As he pumped Felix’s cock, Sylvain’s other hand took up its place on the center Felix’s collarbone again, fingers splaying out close enough to Felix’s throat to make him gasp. Sylvain pulled him tight to his chest again. It felt exhilarating.

And it did get easier. Each time Felix heard a quiet moan in response to his own, or a hitch in Sylvain’s breath when his body reacted, he wanted to earn those sounds again. Felix couldn’t tell if it was some kind of fast-acting conditioning, training him to reward Sylvain and be rewarded in return, or if he just got turned on by turning Sylvain on—but either way, Sylvain made it easier.

Praise spilled unprompted from Felix’s mouth. “Ah, fuck, Sylvain, don’t stop,” he panted. Something about Sylvain’s palm against the side of his dick felt amazing, leaving a sizzling trail of sensation that built with each stroke. A wet heat swirled in his core as he moved in time with Sylvain, chasing the feeling.

The arm clutching him tight to Sylvain’s chest made him even more aware of how hard he was breathing, how fast his heart was pounding—or was that Sylvain’s heartbeat he could feel?

Sylvain’s thumb massaged the leaking slit of his cock at the same time as he tilted his hips to meet Felix on the down stroke of his grinding, making Felix’s ass bounce obscenely in his lap. Felix felt like he was going to combust from the shame of it. “Oh my god, Sylvain—”

Sylvain kissed his earlobe in response. “You doing okay?”

“More than okay,” Felix panted. “Fuck, it feels so good—” _with you._ And once Felix was speaking again, his synapses were firing too fast and he was saying things he hadn’t even realized yet. “Oh, I’ve wanted this for so long. Sylvain, Sylvain.”

Sylvain’s only response was to bite his neck.

And Felix couldn’t find it in himself to fight it anymore. “Oh god—please, Sylvain, I’m so close.” It didn’t matter that he was begging, or that he was close to tipping over the edge after only a few minutes of Sylvain’s hand on him. “Ah, please, just a bit more—”

All that mattered was the bottled-up pleasure in his stomach, the warm skin against his back, and the hot breath at his ear as Sylvain said, “I’ve got you.” That was what pushed him over the edge.

He came in Sylvain’s hand, crying out weakly. The strength of the orgasm made his mind so hazy that he could feel nothing but the bliss radiating through his body, cock pulsing hot in Sylvain’s grip. His legs trembled and instinctively tried to squeeze together, but Sylvain’s legs were still pressed firmly against his inner thighs and easily overpowered his fluttering muscles.

The tension eventually drained out of him as he came down from the high and melted back against Sylvain’s chest, panting. The hand that had held Felix’s heaving chest moved to soothingly stroke the outside of his thigh and the curve of his hip.

Felix finally opened his eyes to see it: Sylvain’s one hand spread possessively on his thigh, his other hand holding Felix’s still twitching cock. The sight of his come, stark white on Sylvain’s hand, surrounded by the dark curls of his pubic hair, made him shiver with inexplicable desire.

“Good?” Sylvain asked. Felix wasn’t sure if he was asking “was that good?” or “are you good?” or “are we good?” but the answer was the same regardless.

“Yeah. Really good.” It was true—his whole body was sighing in satisfaction.

Sylvain’s hand on his leg still rubbed a smooth path from Felix’s hip down the side of his thigh and back up again. The sound of it sliding across his skin grounded Felix in its slow, steady rhythm. Felix realized that even without Sylvain’s hand pulling him to his chest, he was letting Sylvain support his weight anyway.

Sylvain kissed his shoulder. “Good,” he said, his voice warm and heavy. He kissed the same spot, again and again, a gesture that read as so affectionate that it made Felix’s heart throb dully in his chest. “Was that… your first time? I mean, like, you know…coming.”

Felix’s face felt hot. He glad he was facing away from Sylvain. “No?” Felix said, mortified by the question. “I mean—with a partner, yes.” Unless he counted last time, though Sylvain hadn’t even needed to touch him...

Of course, Sylvain took that moment to lift him slightly off his lap (god, why was he so unfairly strong?) and roll them both to one side to collapse on the bed with their legs still tangled. They lay back to chest, with Sylvain’s arm draped over Felix. And honestly, in the post-orgasmic haze, Felix couldn’t say no to a little spooning. It was really, really nice, actually.

Sylvain propped himself up on one elbow to look at him. Felix met his eyes, scowling stubbornly.

“Well yeah. I didn’t think it was your first orgasm ever, in your whole life,” Sylvain chuckled. “I know you masturbate.” Felix did _not_ want to think about how he knew that right now. As if to emphasize his point, Sylvain grabbed a tissue from the box on his nightstand to clean his hand with, and Felix’s face burned anew. “So yeah. With a partner. I… I’m glad I could share it with you.”

Confused, Felix said, “But—it’s not _your_ first time—”

Sylvain laughed and kissed him on the cheek. Felix wrestled with the sappy feelings it provoked in his chest. “No, it isn’t. But I guess I meant…I’m glad you shared it with me. _This_ first time.”

Felix turned his face into the pillow. “Can you please stop saying ‘first time’ now?”

Sylvain resumed absentmindedly tracing the side of Felix’s hip with his fingers. “Hmm, why?” he asked, playfulness reemerging. “There’s a first time for everything! Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Oh my god. I’m not _embarrassed_.” That was a boldfaced lie, and Sylvain almost certainly knew it. Felix fidgeted by finally pulling his foot free of the pants that were still slung around his one ankle.

He could hear Sylvain grinning from the tone of his voice as he said, “I think you did great, by the way—”

“Sylvain, please, for the love of god, shut up.”

“Okay, whatever you say, virgin.” Felix kicked backward at him, nailing Sylvain’s shin with his heel. “Ow!” The smug bastard deserved it.

“Shut up. We both know I’m not a virgin.”

“Don’t get me wrong, virginity is a useless concept,” Sylvain said, “but I think you’re still a virgin in a lot of the ways people count. You’re like… three fourths of a virgin.”

Felix rolled to face him. “I’m not even going to ask what went into that calculation. Should I take it as a compliment or an insult?”

“Neither,” Sylvain responded easily. “There’s no moral value in it. If anything, I think you should take it as a challenge.” He slipped back into his mischievous grin. “I mean, I’m just saying, if you don’t want the rest of your virginity…I’ll take it.”

Felix groaned in secondhand embarrassment. On Sylvain’s behalf. Yeah. “You really are insatiable.” Then he remembered feeling Sylvain’s erection sliding against his ass, between his cheeks. “Speaking of which… you got hard again, didn’t you?” He wouldn’t mind hearing Sylvain moaning his name again…

The tips of Sylvain’s ears went pink. Cute. Exploitable.

That could be fun. “Too bad I’m starving,” Felix said with a grin. Sylvain looked hilariously indignant. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit sexual content. (And possibly implied body image issues? Depends how you read it.)
> 
> So yes, this chapter is just sex. This will not be the only chapter that is just sex. Did I mention that by "eventual smut" I meant "eventually a lot of smut"? Yeah.


	21. new game plus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday, May 10th. Sylvain starts figuring out the new rules and has so much fun doing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in the end notes! If you know me in real life, you MUST check the endnotes.

“Oh no, I completely forgot!” Sylvain said, bolting up and pulling clothes on in a rush as realization set in. “Fuck, you really must be starving! It’s time for lunch, not breakfast!”

“Your morning person bias is showing,” Felix said, amusement obvious in his voice as he twisted his hair back into a bun. “But I’ll admit, my stomach has been pretty empty for a while. Thanks for the saltines, by the way.”

“Oh yeah, of course, no problem,” Sylvain responded, busy thinking what to make for Felix.

“You don’t have to get up, you know,” Felix said. “I just meant that I wanted to get cereal or something.”

“No, you should eat a real meal after…y’know. All of that.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, I’ve had cereal after puking before. Not from drinking too much, but—”

“Oh, I meant after all the sex we just had,” Sylvain said. He enjoyed watching Felix blush as Felix also got dressed again.

Oh. Felix was getting dressed. Sylvain’s mind reeled at the image. Was he allowed to watch Felix get dressed and undressed now?

Following Felix to the kitchen, Sylvain quickly devolved into a mental echo chamber: Was he allowed to hug Felix all the time like he wanted to? Was he allowed to kiss Felix whenever now? Was he allowed to keep Felix around forever? Aaaaaaaa—

He managed to keep a fairly neutral exterior as he bustled around the kitchen refilling the tea kettle and getting out a mug. He only snapped out of his reverie as he accidentally spun into Felix, who said, “You really can sit down, you know. I can make my own breakfast.”

“Okay,” Sylvain agreed automatically. But god, what if he wanted to make Felix breakfast every day for the rest of his life? How soon after hooking up with someone for the first-slash-second time could you ask them to marry you? It took Sylvain a full minute to decide it was probably too soon.

But he did really want to know where the hell their relationship was going from here, so he tried to pick a question that wouldn’t scare Felix away too much. He finally settled on: “So, does this mean a truce on calling me a whore?”

“Do you want it to?” Felix asked.

“Um…not necessarily? I was just wondering if this...made me less of a whore?”

“Are you kidding?” Felix turned around to face him. “Sleeping with me just makes you even _more_ of a whore. I’m just one more name to add to your list.” The frank look on his face startled a laugh out of Sylvain.

(But also, what the fuck did that mean? Hey Felix, what the actual fuck did that mean?)

Sylvain actually _had_ thought it made him less of a whore. Never before had he slept with the same person multiple times in different calendar months, much less in different calendar _years._ (Unless he counted a couple rounds with a girl on New Year’s Eve that had lasted into New Year’s Day—which he didn’t, because the whole relationship lasted less than 6 hours—anyway.)

At best, Sylvain had been able to part amicably and maintain friendships with some of his exes and previous friends with benefits, but he had never gotten back together with anyone after breaking up. Apparently breaking hearts was not very conducive to repeat customers.

Nor had he dated or even hooked up with anyone for more than a few weeks at a time. So having sex with Felix for a second time—more than a year after the first time—was, like, commitment or something, right?

Which begged the question, what exactly were they doing now? Were they hooking up? Were they dating? Sylvain’s heart did a stupid little tap-dance in his chest.

Oh gosh. What if they fostered a kitten together? Or a puppy, depending on Felix’s preference. Sylvain would die of happiness in either scenario. And it was the perfect time for it! No outside commitments! Only this miraculous, effortless one.

No, wait, that was a crazy person idea. That was crazy, right? There was no way Felix would want to adopt a pet together...

Or would he?

No! Fuck! Sylvain needed to stop getting ahead of himself. (Besides, why get a cat when he now had Felix to dig his claws into him?)

While Sylvain got lost in his head, they somehow fell easily back into old habits. Sylvain automatically retrieved a teabag and set the mug down for Felix. Felix just went about his usual business, fixing himself breakfast as if nothing had changed at all. Felix nonchalantly made himself migas with the nearly stale tortillas in the fridge. He spoke in his usual flat affect as he asked Sylvain to pass him the salt.

He then sat down beside Sylvain at the kitchen island to eat, as though there was nothing strange or awkward or new about it at all. And on one hand, it was reassuring, because Felix did not appear to be freaking out this time.

But on the other hand, Sylvain found it slightly distressing. Was Felix not buzzing with questions and excitement and stupid, foolish hope?

“Oh, fuck,” Felix said suddenly. “I have an assignment due tomorrow that I completely forgot about.” He finished the food on his plate and started cleaning up, saying, “Would you mind if I use your room again?”

“Oh! Sure! That’s fine.” Sylvain stood too. “Uh, did you want me to put what’s left in the pan into a container for later?”

Felix looked insulted by the question. “I made extra on purpose, dumbass. What happened to eating a real meal after all the sex we just had?” Felix left with his cup of tea, and Sylvain closed his eyes and sagged in his chair, drowning in happiness.

Felix finally returned after about two hours—two long, torturous hours Sylvain had spent trying to read an ebook on his phone and failing because his imagination was busy writing an epic romance in his head.

Unfortunately, he had also been unconsciously brainstorming questions to figure out if Felix liked him.

“Hey Felix! What if you weren’t stuck here?” he immediately asked without meaning to as Felix brought his mug back to the kitchen.

Felix raised an eyebrow. “Why are you asking?”

“Oh, no reason!” Sylvain said quickly. “Just out of interest. So?”

“I’m already not stuck here,” Felix said, looking at him like he was stupid. (Which he was.) “I went out and got pizza yesterday, remember?”

“Oh. Okay. So what if you _were_ stuck here?”

“What’s with all the what ifs?” Felix asked, sounding bewildered.

“My mind runs on what ifs, okay? Just humor me.”

“I’m…not understanding why you’re asking this,” Felix said blankly.

“No, wait, let’s just roleplay it: I lock the door and you have to stay.”

“Okay,” said Felix. “I unlock the door and can leave whenever I want.”

“What? No!” Sylvain protested childishly. “I locked the door with magic! You can’t just unlock it!”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Okay, then…I have you assassinated.”

“What! You—you can’t just have me _assassinated!”_

“Why not?”

“Wh—first of all—where would you even find an assassin?”

“Oh, sorry. I misspoke. I assassinate you. Personally.”

“Well,” Sylvain huffed, displeased. “Okay, then. I die in your arms. Personally.”

He got a snort of laughter from Felix in response.

“Hey Felix,” he added because he just couldn’t stop himself, “if you had to get a pet, what animal would you get?”

“Mosquito,” Felix said immediately.

“Wh—what? Why?”

“It would remind me of you. And no one would care if I killed it.”

“I—” Wow, this was really not working. “Okay, well, uh—what animal would you get if you actually _wanted_ a pet?”

“A cat,” said Felix. (No surprise there.) “One time my family adopted a kitten from my neighbor who found all these kittens abandoned—”

Sylvain cooed, “Aww, that’s so sweet!”

Felix held up a hand to stop him. “Please hold your applause until the end of the story. She threw up in my dad’s shoes the day after we adopted her. He made us give her back to my neighbor.”

“Aww… I take back my earlier happy awwing. This is sad awwing now.”

“Told you. It was pretty funny, though—Glenn threatened to run away from home over it. At the tender, defenseless age of seventeen.”

Sylvain couldn’t help but grin. Ah, even just talking to Felix was still so fun!

His thoughts leapfrogged right over his (inch-tall, paper-thin) brain-to-mouth filter in his enthusiasm. “So...what would you do if I puked in your shoes?”

“I’d put it right back where it came from,” Felix said without a second of hesitation.

“I…wow. Wow. That’s a more terrifying and revolting response than anything I could have thought of. I think I really might puke now.”

“Better not get it in my shoes, or you’ll be eating vomit for dinner,” Felix cautioned, completely deadpan.

“Ewwww, Felix! That’s gross!”

“Not to mention you’d miss out on my cooking,” Felix said, still with a completely straight face.

But that was…too off-topic to be a joke…?

“Wait, really?” Sylvain asked. “You’re cooking? Twice in one day? Have I died and gone to heaven by mistake?”

“Yep. So go entertain yourself for an half an hour or so.”

“I can’t help with anything?”

“Nope, you’re not allowed to. Goodbye,” Felix said as he pushed Sylvain into his bedroom and closed the door between them.

Sylvain smiled stupidly at the closed door, and then threw himself face first onto the bed—the bed where he and Felix had finally worked things out! The bed where he would get to sleep next to Felix tonight!

He fought the urge to wiggle and shriek into his pillow in sheer happiness. And then he lost the battle and screamed soundlessly into his pillow, at a frequency audible only to mice, because he was over the fucking moon right now. God, what a life! What a world! Sylvain kicked his feet into the bed in utter joy.

And then he literally just laid there with his eyes closed, reveling in his feelings until he felt dizzy. And then he rolled himself into the blanket like a burrito and did it again. He just couldn’t get over it, couldn’t stop thinking _Felix wanted to kiss me again! Felix let me touch him! Felix doesn’t hate me! Felix is making us dinner! Doesn’t he know food is a metaphor for love?! Aaaaaaa—_

Felix opened the door. “Okay, dinner is rea—what the fuck are you doing?”

“Oh,” Sylvain said, rolling himself back out of the blanket, “nothing. Nothing at all.”

Felix gave him a strange look. “Okay, weirdo… anyway, dinner is ready whenever you are.”

Sylvain’s heart swelled what a surely an unhealthy amount as he saw that Felix had set the table for the two of them. “I, um, left the pot on the stove,” Felix said. “I thought we could just fill our bowls and come back…”

“Yes,” Sylvain said passionately. “Yes we can.” Felix gave him a strange sympathetic smile.

Felix ladled the soup into Sylvain’s bowl as Sylvain held it with both hands. Sylvain’s heart glowed as he felt the bowl grow warm in his palms. “It’s turmeric-ginger chicken soup,” Felix said. “Hope I did it right.”

“I’m sure it’s great.” They returned to their seats. As soon as he got the first spoonful in his mouth, Sylvain put the spoon down for emphasis and said, “Felix. This literally _is_ great. Like, totally delicious.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to lie to me.”

“I’m not!”

“It’s not _that_ good, though.”

“Dude. Shut the fuck up. Don’t fuck around with me. I’ll kiss you so hard you won’t even know what hit you.”

“You just gave me ample warning,” Felix pointed out. “So I think I would know, actually. You’ll be my first suspect if anything smacks me in the face.”

“Wasn’t that always the case, though?”

“Correct.”

Sylvain ate another spoonful instead of responding. “This really _is_ good,” he reiterated. “A little spicy, though.”

“Are you joking?” Felix laughed incredulously. “There’s nothing spicy in it!”

“What?” Sylvain took another bite. And then a sip of water. And then a much less subtle sip of water. “Literally, the heat just keeps building…” Felix eyed him with amusement. “Like, it’s still really tasty, but, um—”

Felix cackled sadistically.

Sylvain bravely continued eating, but before long he was suppressing a cough, and his nose was running, and Felix was laughing at him again. He hastily wiped his leaking nose in his sleeve before remembering to use his napkin. “Sorry, what did you say you put in this again?”

“It’s literally just ginger and turmeric and, like, bay leaf and coriander—which aren’t spicy—and a little tiny pinch of black pepper. But I twisted the pepper grinder _one singular time_.”

Sylvain put his head in his hands. “God, I’m so sorry. It’s the ginger. Oh my god. Please excuse my caucasity.”

“No,” said Felix. “Some crimes can never be forgiven.”

And Sylvain was so happy it hurt, because food was a metaphor for love, and Felix burned his tastebuds and cleared his fucking sinuses. Metaphor had rarely come so cheap or easy or delicious.

Sylvain got seconds, and the soup didn’t make him feel half as warm as seeing Felix smiling and eating seconds, too.

“So now that I’ve said I’m gay,” Felix said suddenly, “am I allowed to drink alcohol?”

“Uh, I think I’m not understanding what the connection between those two things is…?”

Felix looked bashful. “I mean, if I drink, am I still…banned from, um, kissing you?”

“You sure you’re not just getting drunk to cope with the utter shame of having slept with me?” Sylvain checked.

Felix smiled that sheepish smile that made Sylvain’s heart seize every time he saw it. “I just...like getting drunk with you,” Felix admitted.

Oh. Sylvain couldn’t help but like that idea. “Well then,” he said. “I like getting drunk with you too.” They grabbed ciders and proceeded to get to work on getting fabulously tipsy.

As Felix finished his first cider and got started on his second, he suddenly moved his empty bowl aside and said, “Hey Sylvain.” Felix put his empty bottle in the middle of the table and said, “Spin the bottle.”

Charmed and intrigued, Sylvain said, “I mean, there are only two of us, but I’ll never say no to that…” He spun it.

Sylvain laughed incredulously as the neck of the bottle ended up pointing at himself. “Well! Not to be a narcissist, but—”

“We’re using the other end this time,” Felix declared crossly.

“Whatever you say, dude.” Sylvain waited a beat. “Close your eyes,” he reminded.

Felix closed them and leaned slightly forward over the table, his face contorted by some strange combination of regret and embarrassment and pouting impatience.

Sylvain grinned and slapped him hard across the face.

“Ow! What was that for?” Felix burst out indignantly, rubbing his cheek.

“Sorry, did you say ‘spin the bottle’? I thought you said ‘kiss or slap’. I voted slap.”

“But I didn’t—” Felix bit off whatever he was saying at the gleeful look on Sylvain’s face. “Fuck you,” he said sourly, spinning the bottle. It spun to a stop with its neck pointing at Felix. “We’re still using the other end of the bottle,” Felix irritably reminded him.

“Uh-huh, yeah, I got that the first time,” Sylvain said. “Very convenient how these rules work.” (Had he mentioned that Felix was kinda cute even when he was cranky? Or especially when he was cranky.)

“Well?” Felix snapped. “Close your eyes, dumbass.”

No sooner had Sylvain closed his eyes than his cheek stung with the impact of Felix slapping him across the face. “Damn. You don’t hold back, huh? But I guess I deserved that.”

“I’m certain you did,” Felix confirmed.

“Okay, well—” Sylvain spun the bottle, and it felt like luck would be on his side no matter who it ended up pointing to.

Then the bottle stopped while it was pointing at neither of them, instead drawing a horizontal line across the table between them.

“You lose your turn,” Felix declared instantly.

“What? That’s not fair—”

Felix spun, and the neck of the bottle pointed at Sylvain while the wrong end pointed at Felix himself.

“Ooh, are you gonna slap yourself now?” Sylvain teased.

“Shut up.” Felix leaned over the table and surprised him with a quick kiss.

Sylvain’s stomach fluttered with a burst of sudden emotion. “W-what was—”

“The wrong end of the bottle is for slaps, and the neck is for kisses,” Felix proclaimed like it was indisputable fact and not an excuse he had just made up.

A laugh escaped from inside Sylvain’s chest. “Truly convoluted rules you’re making up, dude, but you’re right. The neck really _is_ for kisses.”

He spun, and the bottle blessed him by pointing at Felix (with the right end, for kissing). He rose half out of his chair, leaned forward over the table, and kissed Felix on the neck, way too long and slow. He kind of lost his mind at hearing Felix’s breathing pick up.

When he pulled back, Felix was looking at him with a dazed, crooked little grin. “I think this is the drunkest I’ve been,” Felix confessed, “since…well, since yesterday.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Sylvain laughed breathlessly. “Yesterday you were, like, three times drunker than you’ve ever been.”

“No no,” Felix said, “I mean, yesterday was the drunkest I’ve ever been, and today is the _second_ drunkest. Or wait, was that the day before yesterday…?”

“Wow,” said Sylvain. “Not sure if it’s wise to do them all in a row.”

“What can I say? I’m high INT, low WIS.” Felix cracked up at his own joke and looked fucking adorable doing it. “Fuck, now I _really_ know I’m drunk, because I can’t stop fucking laughing.” Felix laughed again, though the sound was closer to a giggle in its woozy giddiness.

“Why stop?” Sylvain said. Felix’s laugh was so cute, especially when accompanied by the scrunching of his nose.

“Because it sounds stupid!”

“No it doesn’t! It just sounds like you’re...happy.”

Still smiling, Felix turned his eyes downward to the table. “Ah. That’s even more stupid of me.”

“So, are you?” Sylvain prompted. “Happy, I mean?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Felix said. “I’m very happy—happy to smack you in the face!” He cackled maniacally.

And the next time Felix spun the bottle, the wrong end pointed at Sylvain. And he kissed Sylvain anyway. Sylvain never wanted to play spin the bottle with anyone else again.

After about twenty minutes and a truly idiotic amount of slaps and increasingly sloppy, giggly kisses, Felix started hiccuping.

“Oh no, you’re not gonna hurl again, right?” Sylvain asked, only half joking.

“No! I just was laughing too hard and I—I think my heart stopped beating for a minute—”

Sylvain felt the same way. “What were you laughing at?” he asked, grinning.

Felix laughed, and then hiccuped mid-laugh, which made him laugh harder. “I just still can’t believe you got turned on by me berating you. That’s like, super funny.”

“What can I say? You’re hot when you’re angry. So that’s like, all the time.”

Felix looked down at his knees and wiggled in his seat like he was uncomfortable. But he was still smiling. “I just—didn’t know you were so into…degradation.”

Sylvain felt his body heating up. “Oh, I’m just easy,” he deflected, “I get turned on by everything. And you’re turned on by what, exactly? Repression and denial?”

“I’m not repressed!”

“Yeah, clearly. You’re more into the denial part.”

Felix squirmed adorably. “Don’t make this weird again,” he whined.

“Oh, it’s gonna get weird, and you’re gonna love it.” Sylvain spun the bottle, wanting to kiss Felix again. Sadly, it did the thing where it pointed at neither of them again.

Felix made no move to spin. Instead, he regarded Sylvain curiously. “Everything, huh?”

“I mean, basically.”

“So what about” —Felix’s foot touched his under the table— “this?”

A thrill went up Sylvain’s spine. “Uh, yes.”

Felix grinned and ran his foot up the side of Sylvain’s calf.

Flustered, Sylvain put his hand down to catch Felix’s foot at his knee—and then was holding Felix’s foot on his knee, a consequence he really should have foreseen but hadn’t.

Neither had Felix. He looked a bit flustered himself, mouth slightly parted. “Oh. O-okay—”

Sylvain slid his hand down Felix’s foot to his ankle. “Maybe I’m not the only one, huh?”

Felix gave him a dangerous look and pulled his foot away. “How about” —Felix slapped him hard across the cheek— “this?”

Sylvain shivered as the sting lingered in his face. “I mean—if you go and make it sexy like that—”

“Really?” Felix seemed delighted. “You’re ready to go right now?”

“Oh my god—”

Felix stood up and moved to the chair next to Sylvain’s, turning the chair to face him before grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him hard, as Felix was wont to do. One of Felix’s hands crept onto Sylvain’s knee, and again Sylvain’s hand immediately went to greet it.

“Ah, Felix,” he murmured, dizzied by how suddenly and deeply turned on he was. He couldn’t stop looking at Felix’s lips, and his chest in his shirt, and—

And the swell in Felix’s pants was too enticing to ignore.

“What will it take to get these off of you?” Sylvain asked, touching the waist of Felix’s pants.

“Another kiss or slap.”

“Okay. Do I get to choose?”

“No.” Felix slapped him across the cheek again. Sylvain gasped with shock, and pain, and undeniable arousal.

“O-okay,” he said, trying to play it cool even as he was thrumming with the impact. “So um, would you mind if I—” He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of Felix’s chair and touched the button of Felix’s jeans.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, you mind?”

“No, I meant—” Felix put a hand on Sylvain’s head. “Yeah. I want you to.”

Sparks ran down his spine. Sylvain fumbled to pull everything down as fast as he could.

Felix’s cock slapped against his stomach, pretty and flushed, already wet to halfway down the shaft with precome.

Maybe Sylvain was more drunk than he thought, but he just couldn’t stop staring at that cock—so blatantly, nakedly erect—

No matter what Felix had said earlier, Sylvain was a bit of a whore. And sometimes he really enjoyed it.

This was one of those times. “God damn, Felix, look at you,” he said, drinking in his first proper look in stupid drunken wonder. “Is this all for me?” he asked reverently.

Felix looked indignant as if Sylvain were mocking him. “Well if you go and kiss me like that—”

“Wanna taste you,” Sylvain interrupted. “Can I?”

Felix looked away. “Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“God, Sylvain! Just—”

Sylvain licked a stripe up it, and Felix rewarded him with a beautiful moan.

A fat drop of precome beaded on the slit before Sylvain’s eyes. He licked it off and watched another immediately form in its place. “Damn, Felix,” he said, transfixed, “you get so fucking wet.”

It made him almost want to give up and just give Felix a handjob instead, just to be able to stick his tongue out and see how long he could keep Felix dripping his slick arousal into his mouth.

Almost.

Turning his head, he placed his lips on either side of the shaft before him. He slid his lips along it while his tongue slicked up the underside.

“So wet and ready for me,” he whispered against Felix’s cock. Though really, Felix should have been saying that to him; he couldn’t stop salivating over it.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t been able to stop fantasizing about it ever since Ingrid suggested sucking Felix’s dick. Regardless of the reason, his mouth was pooling with it. He took Felix into his mouth faster than he’d planned to just to plug up his lips and stop himself from drooling.

He made eye contact with Felix for as long as he could, before finally letting his eyes fall shut and getting lost in how it felt to have Felix’s dick in his mouth. Having it in his mouth was somehow vastly different than having it in his hand. Something about trying and failing to take it all, trying and failing to wrap his tongue around it, allowed him to appreciate how perfectly long and thick it was in a way he hadn’t before.

The tip rubbed up against the hard ridge in the roof of his mouth, and again he felt the tingly sensation that Felix’s fingers rubbing his gums had given him. It felt like the complete opposite of a brain freeze—it made his brain overheat.

Felix’s hand returned to the spot on his cheek where he had slapped him, gently massaging his face—oh. Felix was rubbing the tip of his cock through Sylvain’s cheek.

Sylvain moaned and pushed down farther until he had his nose in Felix’s hair, breathing in the hot scent of his skin. Felix’s cock wept onto the back of his tongue, and the feeling was intoxicating.

Speaking of intoxication: Felix, it seemed, was even more vocal—or just less embarrassed about it—when he was drunk. Either that, or he was just making up for the fact that the bigger talker between the two of them had his mouth otherwise occupied.

Whatever—the point was that Felix kept murmuring things in this low, rough voice that made Sylvain’s head spin. “Damn, that’s really good. Yeah, come on. Suck me.”

Little known fact that surprised absolutely no one: Sylvain lived for praise. He hoped it wasn’t too obvious, but Felix wasn’t making it easy to hide.

“Come on,” Felix kept saying. “Come on, Sylvain. Take it. God, just like that.”

With Felix’s urging, Sylvain moaned around him and bobbed his head faster, because he fucking lived to please. Each time that he felt Felix’s cock throb on his tongue was another shot of arousal into his bloodstream. His pulse pounded between his thighs and into his knees on the hard floor.

Sylvain knew his face was leaking, overproducing spit and tears, but the sloppiness just made it hotter, not to mention wetter, and louder—all qualities Sylvain loved to have in abundance.

And Felix kept up a beautiful litany of “fuck, oh, Sylvain, how are you so good at that, god, please don’t stop,” and his voice just got raspier and raspier, and—

God, this was fucking excellent. This was feeding Sylvain in so many ways. It was a psychic kind of pleasure, like getting fucked directly in the brain.

“Ah, ah, I—I think I’m gonna come,” Felix panted, tipping his head back.

Sylvain pulled off of Felix’s cock to rub it against his cheek, his eyes closed in bliss as he smeared saliva and precome all over his face. “You can come on my face. If you want.”

Apparently Felix wanted. Sylvain pumped him with one hand and sucked on the head, tonguing the slit until Felix pulled him off with a moan and came over his face.

Sylvain’s only regret was that he had to close his eyes and again missed the opportunity to see Felix’s face as he came.

He blinked his eyes open when he was sure Felix was done and reveled in the way Felix was looking at him, eyes dark and hungry as Sylvain licked a wide circle around his lips just for show.

Felix’s eyes went wide. “Oh no,” he said quietly.

Sylvain was hit with instant panic. “What’s—”

“We didn’t use a condom,” Felix said, looking alarmed. “Oh no. Should we have been using condoms? Oh no, I didn’t even—”

Sylvain was so relieved that he laughed before answering. “Oh my god, Felix. It’s fine! We got tested together again last spring, remember? And I haven’t had any unsafe sex since then, and I’m assuming you haven’t either, so there’s nothing to worry about. But we can start using them if it makes you more comfortable, of course.”

“Oh…I…” Felix trailed off as his cheeks went red. “No, I guess that’s okay then.”

“Why?” Sylvain couldn’t resist teasing. “What did you think you were gonna give me? Throat babies? Gonorrhea of the eye?”

“Oh my god. You’re disgusting.” Felix covered his face with his hands.

“Hey, you’re the one who accepted an offer to come on my face.”

“I hate you, Sylvain. I hate you so, so much.”

Sylvain smiled fondly. “I guess some things never change.”

After they had sobered up a little bit and finished cleaning up from dinner (as well as…various other things), Felix spotted Lysithea on the balcony across from them as he passed by the windows. “We should go say hi,” he said. He tugged Sylvain out the sliding glass door with him (and as always, Sylvain went willingly).

The evening air was quite refreshing, and the evening sky was beautiful, and—okay, maybe Sylvain was seeing everything through rosy lenses, but knowing that didn’t change how beautiful it looked.

“Hey Lysithea, whatcha doing?” Sylvain asked casually, trying not to glow with happiness and drunkenness _too_ conspicuously.

“Funny you should ask!” said Lysithea. “I was just cutting some herbs and flowers to send to you two as a thank you for the cookies. I’ll admit, they were rather good.”

“I thought the cookies were an apology gift for the Super Soaker event?” Felix asked. Sylvain glared at him—or tried to, but he was just too goddamn happy for it to work.

“Well, yes,” said Lysithea. “I suppose that’s true. So it seems you’ll owe me again once I send this over, won’t you?”

“Works for me!” Sylvain said brightly. That was like two gifts in one! First the herbs, and then the chance to bake cookies with Felix again.

Lysithea neatly arranged each bunch of stems into the basket, and then pulled on the ribbon to send it across the gap.

“So what are these, exactly?” Felix asked as he picked the assorted sprigs of leaves and tiny flowers out of the basket.

“Oh, some baby’s breath, petunias, forget-me-nots, lobelia—”

“I was asking more about the herbs,” Felix said, though he looked a little impressed.

“Ah,” said Lysithea. “Basil, mint and cilantro. I figured those are probably the most useful for cooking—and that most people should be able to identify them based on scent.”

“Dimitri wouldn’t,” Sylvain and Felix both said under their breath at the same time.

“Who?”

“Nothing.”

“Never mind.”

Lysithea regarded them strangely. “Whatever you say… well, we’ll have to decide on your payment another time. Have a nice rest of your evening, you two.”

“Oh, we will.” Sylvain got a pinch on his arm for that one, and he was happy.

When they were back inside the apartment, Felix said, “You can go brush your teeth and stuff. I’ll find something to put the flowers in.”

Sylvain had kind of hoped they would go to bed together, but… “Okay. Can I… have one more kiss?”

Felix made a strange twisted-up face of discomfort. “No—”

“O-oh. I—”

Felix held up one finger in a clear gesture of “hang on a second,” and then sneezed explosively into his elbow. “Ugh, these goddamn—” Felix swore vehemently while Sylvain laughed. “—shitty fucking seasonal allergies—”

“Well, I’ll just… see you in bed, then?”

Felix looked at the tiny flowers in his hands, and said, “Yeah. See you there.”

_May 10, 2020 at 11:29 PM_

_i really, really like you. and i’m still a little lonely somehow… the two may or may not be related. now that we're almost (?) dating (?), i think i’m happy. i think i might be happier than i even know how to process._

_but i don’t quite trust myself to know. when i’m hungry and cold, i’ll eat something and trick myself into thinking that i feel warmer, too. so the question stands: what is that i’m really getting from this? and what are you really giving me?_

_not that i regret this! that’s not it at all. i have loved getting to kiss you again, getting to be so close to you. i’ve gotten to touch pieces of you that you’d never even let me see before._

_and letting you touch me! wow. now that was a dream. surely, it must have been. i can’t believe you wanted to touch me first. i can still hardly believe you wanted to touch me at all. i’ve been with so many people who cared only for their own pleasure, but they must not have felt the way i felt touching you. pleasing you is its own reward. i hope you felt the same way touching me._

_(and i can’t help but hope that maybe it meant something more to you, too.) take that part out of the parentheses, actually. it feels important._

_how can i even stand to not tell you i love you? if you leave without knowing it, i don't think i’ll be able to handle the regret. i know that i could live without you. and i did live without you, for a whole year (not to mention my entire life before i met you). but during that year apart, i felt your absence around me like the vacuum of space. it tore at me. left me adrift._

_i want you here, because you feel like an essential part of me. you fill the empty space around me so cozily. you illuminate me, and my life would be all the dimmer without you. so yes, i want you near me, the way the moon wants the sun. i lose sight of myself without you. and maybe it is just proximity, but no other star in the universe makes the moon shine so bright._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit sexual content (again) and drinking (again...) and mentions of puking. Sorry they talk about vomiting so much...
> 
> Also this chapter is dedicated to the fefoc (fire emblem fans of color). i love us
> 
> If you know me in real life, stop reading when they start playing footsie and then command+F "various other things" and start from there.
> 
> Also fun fact: this chapter was originally called "kiss or slap... 2!!" and I really had to convince myself to change it


	22. hands, heart, head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday, May 10th - Monday, May 11th. Felix knows how to work for something once he sets his mind to it, but things never go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in the end notes! If you know me in real life, you MUST check them.

When Felix came to bed, warm and damp from the shower, he decided to start climbing over Sylvain to get in and out of bed instead of just walking around to his side of the bed. Just for fun.

He climbed over where Sylvain lay face-up, pausing on hands and knees above him for a brief second. Sylvain gasped, “Wh-what are you…?”

“Getting into bed? Why?” Felix flopped onto his own side of the bed.

“Oh. Nothing.” Sylvain looked a little flustered. “Well, goodnight!”

Felix turned onto his side to hide his grin. “Goodnight.” He closed his eyes and tried to let his mind wander.

But as he lay there trying to bore himself to sleep, his mind kept running back to Sylvain kissing him, spreading his legs, taking him in hand...

He was turned on again. Goddamn it. He couldn’t believe himself. But how the fuck was he supposed to fall asleep when Sylvain was right next to him?

One possible sleep aid came to mind. He turned onto his back. “Hey Sylvain.”

“Yeah?”

“Am I…allowed to touch myself in your bed?”

The realization of what he was asking hit him like a truck. He wanted to jerk off in Sylvain’s bed, next to him, thinking of him, and was asking Sylvain for permission to do it like a naughty child—god, the idea was even hotter and sicker once he’d said it aloud. He burned with shame at his own daring.

“Why, are you in the mood again?”

“No,” Felix scoffed, reflexively contrary, “I was just wondering. Sometimes it helps me sleep, and since we’ve already had sex—”

Sylvain’s hands reached for him under the covers. “What’s this, then?” he asked innocently, cupping a hand against Felix’s growing erection. “Wow, you wanna go three times in one day? And to think you used to call _me_ insatiable—”

“You still are insatiable!” Felix objected. “I didn’t ask you to touch me. You’re the one who invited yourself over.” But damn, the heat of Sylvain’s hand felt so good—

So good that Felix nearly whined when Sylvain instantly pulled his hand away. “Do you want me to stop touching you?” Sylvain asked.

Felix huffed and turned his head away so he could admit, “No. I don’t.”

“Aww, addicted to me already?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up! I’m just” —Felix sputtered— “making up for lost time.”

“Amen to that,” Sylvain said, pressing closer. Even in the darkness, Felix could tell that Sylvain was grinning. “You know…” Sylvain said, voice low and suggestive, “I still haven’t gotten to properly see your face when you come.”

Then he rolled onto all fours on top of Felix, his face hovering four tantalizing inches above Felix’s, and Felix closed that gap in an instant. And realized maybe he hadn’t really wanted to touch himself as much as he’d wanted Sylvain to kiss him again.

Sylvain was so playful as they kissed. He kept laughing and pushing himself back up onto all fours between kisses, making Felix work for each kiss, forcing him to curl off the bed to catch Sylvain’s lips and pull him back down. And Felix did it, willingly, again and again, because it was such an affordable price to pay to kiss Sylvain Jose Gautier.

And because he couldn’t let Sylvain catch his breath and start wondering why the hell he was kissing Felix Hugo Fraldarius.

Oh, if only Sylvain would give in and lay down on him, though. Felix ached for Sylvain to press their bodies together and blanket him with his weight and smother him in kisses like a lover—a real lover, in more than just the physical sense. Oh, if only Felix could wish every single inch of his skin into constant contact with Sylvain’s so they would always be this close.

He imagined it. He imagined that they were just two boys, laying side by side in the dark, kissing infinitely. Chest to chest, their legs so entangled that they would never part again.

And Felix knew that they were both men, and that they had only ever known each other as adults, but the sweet intimacy of just kissing in bed, in the dark, was so foreign to him that he felt much younger for being so overwhelmed by it. Maybe, in some part of his imagination, or in some other life, some parallel universe, they really had known each other and been together as boys.

Or maybe Felix was just so inexperienced that he was still catching up developmentally to where he could have been if he had done things in the right order, on the right timeline. But he was twenty-one, kissing Sylvain and still discovering himself the way he hadn’t as a teenager.

He was suddenly overcome with uncontainable jealousy that Sylvain had gotten to test the waters with who knows how many people. And meanwhile here he was, still learning to share himself with one person.

He wished he could have been the first to kiss Sylvain breathless. That was what he really wanted. This was a close second, though.

While he strained off of the bed to capture Sylvain’s mouth for what felt like the thousandth desperate, glorious time, one of Sylvain’s hands moved to the back of his head. Sylvain stroked down the length of his braid, sliding off the elastic at the end. Felix felt himself gasp into Sylvain’s mouth at the unexpectedness of it.

After rolling the elastic band down his hand to his wrist, Sylvain lifted the hand to the side of Felix’s face, sliding it up along his jawline to his ear. Sylvain just held him there for a moment, gently, with his thumb petting over the stud of Felix’s tragus piercing and his other fingers weaving into Felix’s hairline just behind his ear. And Felix just lay on the mattress looking up at him, overwhelmed.

Sylvain’s hand combed through the length of his hair, slowly shaking out the shape of the braid. Felix’s stomach felt light, swarmed with the good kind of butterflies. He raised himself up on his elbows to let Sylvain reach the full length of his hair.

When he was done untangling Felix’s hair, Sylvain returned his hand to Felix’s jawbone. They kissed again, and when Felix fell back onto the mattress, he tugged at Sylvain’s neck to bring him down with him, chasing each kiss with another one.

They kissed like that for a long while. Felix never got tired of it.

And then Sylvain pulled back and moved off of him, laying down beside him again. He was still breathing a bit heavy from the kissing, his lips parted and shining with wetness as he lay on his side and said in a hushed voice, “Show me. Touch yourself like you were planning to.”

Felix hesitated only a millisecond before sliding his hand into his underwear. Because fuck, he was just so turned on.

It felt so secretive and dirty to be touching himself under the covers while Sylvain watched. In the dark and the quiet, the rustling sounds of his own hand moving under the sheets felt magnified just below the sounds of their breathing, and he was burning up, so aroused by the perversity of it.

As he bit his lip, tugging jerkily at his own cock, he noticed Sylvain was looking at him. But not at his body. No, Sylvain looked right at his face. His eyes were wide and trained on Felix’s as if wanting to soak in every single photon. And Felix didn’t even want to look away.

Sylvain’s hands returned to wandering over Felix’s chest and arms, sometimes on top of his shirt, sometimes slipping under it. Sylvain pushed the blanket down to uncover Felix’s torso, and then paused for a second before flipping it down to reveal him entirely.

“No point in watching if I can’t see, right?” Sylvain breathed. But the vortexes of Sylvain’s blown pupils still hooked into Felix, sucking him in. Sylvain still wasn’t looking down.

Even as Felix was too lost in sensation to know his own mind, Sylvain read it for him. “Can I kiss you again?” Sylvain asked. Felix hadn’t known how badly he needed that until Sylvain spoke it into existence.

“Yes, you don’t have to ask to kiss me—”

Was what he’d planned to say, before Sylvain cut him off after just “yes” with a tongue in his mouth. The rest of his sentence dissolved into a heavy moan.

Felix’s whole body lit up as though Sylvain’s lips on his had completed some circuit and let electricity flow into him. Fuck, how did kissing Sylvain do this to him every time? His mouth opened wider for it. His hand moved better on his cock, as if he hadn’t really been feeling it until Sylvain supplied real feeling into it. He closed his eyes and pictured the sensation as a glowing neon afterimage in the dark.

And with his eyes closed, it was like paradise. It was exactly what he used to fantasize about. Disembodied hands: two hands running all over his body, one on his cock, and one holding Sylvain close by the back of his shirt, and—oh. That was more than he’d ever known to want.

It was over embarrassingly fast. He cried out softly, and Sylvain kissed him as he came.

A warm cloud of exhaustion settled over Felix, his abs and arms and thighs suddenly aching from the sweet exertion of constantly pulling Sylvain closer. Sylvain’s arm was a gratifying weight on his waist as his heart rate slowed.

And Felix felt…comfortable. Relaxed, and trusting, and relieved, in a different way than he’d expected. The way he supposed he had felt with Sylvain for a long time. It just felt so _right_ , to be caught up in Sylvain’s bed, next to Sylvain’s body.

For once, Felix thought it might even feel right to whisper the words he never really used with anyone—not even with his friends, not even with his family when he could avoid it. _I love you._ His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he considered it. He imagined Sylvain calling him “babe” and “dear” and actually meaning them, an idea so lovely and impossible that he wanted to cry.

It would feel right, but it would be terrifying. Especially because he doubted Sylvain would say it back.

Instead he nestled closer in to Sylvain and whispered, “Goodnight, Sylvain.”

“Goodnight, Felix,” Sylvain said back.

Felix let his eyes drift closed, feeling safe and wanting to bask in this moment like a patch of sunlight. He felt Sylvain gently kiss one of his eyelids, then the other. Sylvain kissed his cheek, and his nose, and chin, and his forehead…

Sleep pulled him under with Sylvain’s arms still holding him.

When Felix woke up the next morning, Sylvain wasn’t holding him anymore. He was on his own side of the bed, and Sylvain was on the other.

Felix wondered if the entire past day had just been one horny, horny dream—until he noticed his hair wasn’t in its usual nighttime braid. He spotted the missing ponytail holder around Sylvain’s wrist. It matched the extra ponytail holder that Felix wore on his own wrist like an accidental friendship bracelet.

Sylvain had said this wouldn’t change their relationship. And Felix had thought he’d made his peace with that. But as it turned out, that choice was a bed he could make a million times, and he would still want to unmake it every night.

So Felix got out of bed and resolved himself. He was going to make Sylvain fall in love with him.

He knew it was a tall order. Getting the perpetually shallow playboy Sylvain to fall in love? Sylvain, reincarnated Greek god of stealing virginity and breaking hearts? Sylvain, snake charmer of getting people to open their legs? Sylvain, the infamous flirt, the handsome heartbreaker? Sylvain, the commitment-averse, apparently-bisexual bicycle of the friend group? Sylvain, the—okay, this wasn’t helpful.

Not to mention, Felix knew it was asking a lot of anyone to love _him_. He was just bumbling, inexperienced, grumpy old Felix. Felix, the frigid, uptight asshole. Cactus, porcupine, you name something prickly, he’d been called it before. Felix knew he was a bit of a hard sell. But if Sylvain could change for the better, so could he.

And Felix _knew_ Sylvain. He knew there was definitely a heart in there somewhere. Sylvain himself had said that Felix was one of the few to see past his facade. And yes, maybe it was a different heart than the one Sylvain wore on his sleeve, but it was a better one. Much better than most people gave him credit for.

And Felix wanted it all to himself.

So what if Sylvain had never dated a guy before, and maybe hadn’t even loved anyone in a deep way? Felix wasn’t going to let that stop him from trying. If love was a game to Sylvain, so be it. Felix would just have to learn to play by his rules.

So, strategy time: what were the things Sylvain liked? Cooking and eating, video games, books, being lazy as hell, dancing, flirting, fucking… et cetera. And that made it pretty easy, since those were mostly things Felix had come to enjoy by extension.

Hopefully he could just play those things up, and then Sylvain would somehow decide he liked Felix enough to keep him around. If he could just prove that he could keep up, hopefully Sylvain would keep wanting him. Or at least not get bored of him.

The task set before him wasn’t easy, but he was planning to start with a bold move: making Sylvain breakfast in bed. (Just like Sylvain, well, _hadn’t_ ended up asking for that one time.)

After all, there were two surefire ways to a man’s heart: through his mouth, and through his dick. That was how the saying went, right? Felix knew that didn’t sound exactly right, but he got the gist of it and was willing to try both approaches. After all, Sylvain had seemed to like dinner the day before. And…what happened after dinner.

Step one: breakfast in bed. He got started on toast, scrambled eggs, and coffee with a new determination powering him forward.

Unfortunately, Sylvain foiled his plans by waking up before he was done cooking. He “snuck up” behind Felix in the kitchen. (Felix heard his footsteps approaching the stove but pretended not to.)

“Hey, baby,” Sylvain crooned in his best sultry voice. He followed the words up with a kiss on the shell of Felix’s ear as he slung his arms loosely around his waist from behind. Sylvain’s tongue darted out to bat lightly against his earlobe, stud and all. Felix did not quite understand the logic of the move; it left his ear wet and cold, and he imagined his ear (and the metal stud in it) didn’t taste that good.

But it was a perfect time to turn the tables. Felix put down his spatula before twisting in Sylvain’s arms to face him, giving him a cool look (though he had been trying for flirtatious). “Hey, baby yourself,” he said as he slotted a knee up between Sylvain’s legs.

Sylvain’s shoulders jumped in surprise. Interesting.

“Oh, you like being called baby, huh?” Felix guessed. Sylvain’s eyes widened, obviously disarmed. Gotcha. Felix filed this information away to use later. “I was in the middle of making breakfast. You’ll have to let me go so I can finish.” He imbued it with as much sweetness as he could muster.

It came out sounding like something between teasing mockery and his usual death threats. He would have to work on his delivery.

“O-okay,” said Sylvain.

Felix found himself a little disappointed when Sylvain obediently dropped his hold on him. He hadn’t realized until then that he’d secretly wanted Sylvain to kiss him ravenously and leave their eggs to burn.

But Sylvain’s obedience was kinda cute, too. Sylvain took a seat at the kitchen island and blinked hopefully at Felix, as though he suspected he was dreaming but sure wasn’t going to pinch himself and risk waking up.

(Coincidentally, had Sylvain’s lips been that pink yesterday? Or were they that pink as a _result_ of yesterday? Because they were driving Felix crazy again.)

 _Baby._ As Felix turned his attention back to cooking, he couldn’t help but think how fitting it was for Sylvain.

Sylvain was attractive in a dashing sort of way, the kind of handsome that turned heads, but somehow he still had something of a babyface, too. A strong jaw, but paired with the adorable round cheeks that Felix secretly loved to poke a finger into. He thought of how Sylvain could babble for hours about whatever he was interested in, how Sylvain really did dance like no one was watching.

 _Baby._ The affection of it made Felix feel butterflies again. He might like calling Sylvain baby as much as Sylvain liked to be called it.

Felix turned off the gas to the pan of eggs on the stove and wished in retrospect that he could have worn an apron to mess with Sylvain a little more. Did Sylvain even own an apron? Then again, what college student owned an apron? (Probably Mercedes. And probably Dedue.)

He got out a plate, and then remembered Sylvain was still sitting there watching him in a trance. “Get back in bed,” Felix ordered him.

“What?!” Sylvain exclaimed. “You mean you’re not going to let me have any?”

“No, I meant—argh, you’re ruining the surprise!”

“Surprise?”

Felix glared. “Get back into your goddamn bed.”

Sylvain looked bewildered. “Um. Okay…” He slowly returned to his bedroom, looking sadly back over his shoulder several times.

Felix followed a few minutes later with the plate and a cup of coffee on a tray. Sylvain scrambled into a sitting position with his back against the wall, mouthing, “What!” over and over and making a face of utter confusion.

“Oh, pick your jaw up off the floor,” Felix snapped. He once again climbed over Sylvain instead of walking around the bed, depositing the tray in Sylvain’s lap as he went.

“What!” Sylvain exclaimed, flabbergasted. He accepted the tray and stared at it in his lap like he had no idea what it was. “What!” Felix couldn’t really tell why he was having such an intense reaction.

“I just—I wanted to show that I can make breakfast unsupervised! Without killing your stove!” He hadn’t expected Sylvain to look so confounded by it.

“And where’s _your_ breakfast?” Sylvain asked.

Oh.

“I… I just made breakfast for you,” Felix stammered, realizing his mistake as he sat on his own side of the bed.

“Felix!” Sylvain cried, exasperated. “Oh my god, you fool—” He grabbed the fork with one hand and Felix’s chin with the other and stuck the first bite of scrambled egg into Felix’s mouth while it opened to protest.

“But I mmph—” Felix had no choice but to eat the egg or choke on it. “Sylvain! I made igh—” Sylvain shoved another bite into Felix’s mouth as soon as he was done with the first, grinning widely as he did so. Maybe it would be better to choke after all. Why couldn’t anything ever just go according to plan?

Face burning with mortification, Felix ripped the fork out of Sylvain’s hand before he could do it again. “I made it for _you_ , asshole! Stop force feeding me!” he hissed through his hideous blush. He had an immense urge to flip the tray over on Sylvain’s lap and scald him with his own coffee, but he was pretty sure that would send the wrong message.

“I’d rather you prove you can feed yourself than prove you can feed me!” Sylvain retorted, causing a little riot in Felix’s unruly heart.

“Shut up,” Felix said passionately, shoving the next forkful into Sylvain’s mouth so hard that Sylvain made a choking noise. “God, I really hate you sometimes.”

“ _Sometimes_? So you—”

Felix cut him off with another forkful to the face, this time leaving the fork dangling out of his mouth. “Feed yourself then, idiot,” he muttered, climbing back out of bed (over Sylvain’s lap again, of course.)

“Fewix!” Sylvain cried through a mouthful of fork. Sylvain reached for him, trying to stop him from leaving and nearly tipping over the tray on his lap in the process.

Felix barely steadied it in time. “I swear, you are the most difficult, obtuse fucking—” He balled up his fists, rendered speechless by how frustrating this venture was going to be.

“Enjoy,” Felix remembered to tack on, venomously, before slamming the bedroom door. He heard Sylvain laugh from the other side of the door.

Felix went to make himself breakfast and decided to count this a semi-success.

Step two: video games.

“Do you wanna play a video game or something?” Felix offered. It was an hour after breakfast, and he had nothing to do until a class later in the afternoon.

“Oh! Sure!” Sylvain lit up with enthusiasm, making Felix immediately feel that this was a good move on his part. “What do you wanna play? There’s a second season of The Walking Dead that you could play. I would be happy to watch! And provide commentary, of course.”

“Oh. I was thinking we could play something together,” Felix said. “Don’t you have any… I dunno, multi-player games?”

“Of course I do!” Of course he did. Sylvain owned every video game and console that money could buy.

Sylvain immediately went to turn on the TV and select the proper input for his Switch, grabbing each of them a joy-con. “Mario Kart!” he said in excitement. He then seated himself lengthwise across the couch, kicking his feet up in Felix’s lap.

“You better not kick me while I’m driving,” Felix said preemptively.

“Well, thanks for the idea.” Sylvain leaned comfortably back against the couch’s armrest, grinning as he set up the rules. “How many races? Forty-eight?”

“Uh, how about we start with six? We can each pick three courses. You can choose first.” Felix thought this was an exceedingly generous offer.

As it turned out, Sylvain either had terrible taste in Mario Kart tracks or was somehow picking the ones Felix hated most with startling accuracy. First Sylvain picked Sherbet Land, which objectively sucked. Felix then picked Hyrule Circuit, which objectively rocked.

Sylvain then continued on the sugary theme by picking Sweet Sweet Canyon. “They used to call _me_ Sweet Sweet Canyon in high school, you know,” he added. Felix ignored him and picked Mute City for his next course as a hint to shut the fuck up.

Lastly, Sylvain picked Baby Park, which Felix despised all seven tiny, infuriating laps of. “I swear to god, did you pick these just to annoy me?” Felix said, growling in frustration as he crossed the finish line.

Sylvain grinned. “Why, is it working?” Felix picked Wario’s Gold Mine and flicked him in the foot. “You’re just mad you came in fifth,” Sylvain added. He waited until the race had started to kick Felix in the arm.

In addition to knocking him off course, the fabric of Sylvain’s ratty old sweatpants flew up and blocked Felix’s view of the TV for an extra second.

Oh god. Sylvain wearing sweatpants.

Felix suddenly remembered those exact sweatpants—and the hole in the thigh that Sylvain had never mended, despite a year of reminders from Felix—and felt his focus veer away from the game. His eyes also strayed, right up Sylvain’s leg to that bit of skin peeking through, and—oh no. Sylvain’s appetizing bulge.

Felix ripped his eyes away and understood for the first time why gay people apparently couldn’t drive.

“Oh, blow me,” Sylvain said, pissed-off because Felix had just rammed him off the edge of the track.

Okay.

Step three, or whatever fucking number it was: the hands on-approach.

“Okay,” said Felix.

Sylvain appeared not to hear him, too focused on retaking first place. It wasn’t hard considering how suddenly distracted Felix was.

When Sylvain won, he triumphantly said, “Ha! Suck my dick!” and swung his legs off of the couch, sitting up properly just to lean in and rub his victory in Felix’s face.

Felix, completely serious, said, “Sure.”

“What?”

“I can. That’s the second time you suggested it.”

Sylvain laughed. “Aww, Felix, don’t you know what saying that does to me? You’re such a tease.”

“I’m not even teasing,” Felix stated, not sure how he could make it any clearer. “I literally will if you want me to.”

“I don’t think you know the meaning of the word literally,” chuckled Sylvain. God, how fucking stupid was he?

“No, _you_ don’t know the meaning of the word literally,” Felix said, finally just grabbing Sylvain and latching onto his neck.

At last, Sylvain seemed to get the message. His hands flew to hold Felix’s sides while Felix sucked on the side of his neck. “Ah, Felix, oh—” Sylvain bit back some sound that Felix really wished he would let out instead. Felix mentally readied himself to swing a leg over Sylvain’s lap and taste his tongue again.

Before he got the chance, Sylvain was suddenly rolling into his lap—knees digging into the couch on either side of Felix’s hips, the tops of his feet on Felix’s thighs—kissing him on the mouth and gripping his chin as if they’d both had the same thought and Felix just hadn’t reacted fast enough. He sucked Sylvain’s tongue. It felt fat and satisfying as it slid just inside of his lips.

“I love it when you bully me,” Sylvain muttered in the two second window between two hot, wild kisses.

“How was that bullying you?”

Sylvain scoffed. “Oh, come on. You know what you do to me.” Sylvain spread his legs wider—revealing that hole on the inside of the thigh that Felix was _dying_ to stick his fingers into—and slid his hips forward, closer to Felix’s, until they were close enough for Felix to feel the heat of Sylvain’s body through both of their clothes. He could feel Sylvain’s burgeoning erection press against his own, and it was driving him mad. His jeans already felt uncomfortably tight.

He let out an involuntary sound as they kissed again and felt his face flush as he realized again how vocal he was being. Ugh, how embarrassing. As if everything else about him didn’t already scream _I have only one day of sexual experience and it was yesterday._

“Hey Felix,” Sylvain said, sounding oddly shy, “remember the last time we were in this position?”

“Yeah.” Felix’s heart pounded in his throat. “Often.”

Sylvain gasped, and then they were kissing again before Felix had even had time to process what he’d admitted to. His hands went to grip Sylvain’s ass as if they had a mind of their own.

“Would you jerk me off like that again?” Sylvain asked in a gravely voice. “Would you really suck my dick? Would you fuck me with your fingers if I asked you to?”

Arousal buzzed like static in Felix’s stomach. “I would, and I would, and I would.”

Sylvain groaned. “Fuck, Felix, I—”

That was the last thing Sylvain said before his hands started roaming down Felix’s chest, reaching down to his stomach to slip under his shirt.

Felix followed suit and lifted Sylvain’s shirt to toy with his chest. He watched, mesmerized as Sylvain’s soft nipples sharpened under his touch and narrowed into hard, raised points. He felt Sylvain twitch against him when he thumbed over them, so he kept doing it, drawing circles over them.

He drew his hands away to lick both of his thumbs before returning them to Sylvain’s chest, and Sylvain seemed to like the wet slide of them even better.

“Ahh, Felix, in _my_ mouth—” Sylvain whined. He grabbed one of Felix’s hands away from his chest, and Felix understood instantly.

He pushed his thumb into Sylvain’s mouth, sliding his other hand to the curve of Sylvain’s waist. Sylvain’s shirt fell back over his chest, but Felix could still see the points of his nipples through it. It really shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did.

Before he knew it, Sylvain was sliding off his lap and dropping to his knees in front of the couch, kneeling between Felix’s legs. He buried his face in Felix’s crotch, rubbing his cheek against the outline of his cock in his pants.

“Oh my god, again?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sylvain said, grinning up from between his legs. He made coquettish eye contact with him as he pulled the zipper down with his teeth.

It was needless, and impractical, and showy—but god, Felix could think that all he wanted and still find it hot as hell anyway.

Even hotter was the image of Sylvain licking at his frenulum through his underwear, making the damp spot that was already there bloom across the fabric. “You good with this?” Sylvain asked.

Felix nodded. The wet spot on the fabric bled wider. “And you want to?”

Sylvain nodded fervidly. “As long as you do.” He licked his lips in obvious preparation.

Felix nodded back, and that was all it took.

Sylvain pulled his underwear down past his hips and halfway down his thighs, and then he was kissing up the side of Felix’s cock in a way that made him feel lightheaded. Felix would have let his eyes fall shut, but he couldn’t get enough of watching the way Sylvain kissed the slit like he truly wanted to make out with it all day. “Can I pull these down more?” Sylvain asked. “Want a bit more room to work, you know.”

“Okay,” Felix said, trying not to sound too desperate for it. Sylvain briefly slipped out from between his legs to pull everything down to his ankles.

Once he got Felix’s pants off, Sylvain spread Felix’s legs wide and situated himself right back between them. He turned his head and latched onto the soft skin of Felix’s inner thigh, just an inch from his crotch. He brought one hand to tease Felix’s cock as the other kneaded Felix’s thigh alongside his mouth.

Until last night, Felix never would have guessed Sylvain would be so willing or eager to do this, but fuck if he didn’t absolutely love it. “Fuck, I can’t believe how—” Nope, never mind. It felt too dirty to say aloud.

Sylvain unlatched from sucking a hickey on his thigh to ask, “What is it?”

“I just…never even imagined…this,” Felix said, his face burning.

Sylvain grinned, smearing the tip of Felix’s cock over his lips to make them glisten with precome. “Really? I did.” He took Felix into his mouth. Felix felt the tip of his cock touch the hardness of the roof of Sylvain’s mouth. And then the softness at the back of his throat.

“Oh god—” Felix’s hands didn’t know where to go first, so they went everywhere, stumbling over themselves in eagerness. Everything felt so right—cradling Sylvain’s soft cheeks, thumbing the pink tips of his ears, brushing the wet corners of his eyes as Sylvain took him so deep that he teared up. Felix eventually found his hands in Sylvain’ hair, repeatedly combing it back from his face.

He found he couldn’t stop doing it. He was suddenly addicted to letting Sylvain’s hair fall forward over his forehead just so he could smooth it back again. Or maybe it was the reverse and he was obsessed with combing it back just to watch it tumble forward again.

Or maybe he just liked feeling the strands slip between his fingers, and Sylvain’s head between his legs, and Sylvain gently butting his head into the touch. He couldn’t decide. It was all too good.

And Sylvain’s hands slid up his thighs, all the way to his hips where Sylvain grabbed handfuls of his ass. It caused Felix to nearly black out as he realized Sylvain was sucking him off with _no hands_. He tried to resist bucking his hips at the thought, but it was just too much. “Fuck, sorry—”

Sylvain made a choked sound, but he didn’t pull away.

“Holy shit, Jesus fucking Christ, Sylvain,” Felix panted. Sylvain hummed around him in response, prompting another jerk of Felix’s cock into his mouth. That soft, wet feeling, combined with the stunning view of Sylvain glutting himself on his cock, gulping him down, made Felix groan.

Under his breath, he muttered, “Fuck, Sylvain, you’re so good at this.”

Sylvain outright _moaned_. And then it clicked in Felix’s head.

Of course—of course! How could he have not realized before? Sylvain was as desperate for reassurance and affirmation as he was, and probably even more so. Felix hadn’t been clear-headed enough to notice it last night while he was drunkenly running his mouth, but Sylvain had definitely had a reaction to it.

Ah. That was why he had asked Felix to talk to him. He’d just wanted the approval.

Well, Felix was going to give it to him. “You—you look so good like this.” Sylvain ran his hands up along Felix’s sides, petting up his obliques and stomach in response. The touch sent a shiver through Felix’s body while the heat between his legs continued to build. “You’re—fuck, Sylvain, it just feels so fucking good.” He struggled to think of something more creative, but in his current state everything was just _good, good, good—_

Felix groaned, beyond coherence, too busy looking at Sylvain’s slick lips and fluttering wet eyelashes to focus on anything else. “So hot, so good, I just—just like that, oh—” He fell apart into a moan again. “Ah, Sylvain, you feel amazing.”

Felix gripped Sylvain’s hair tighter, and Sylvain moaned around him again. And the way Sylvain leaned into the touch, it was so…so…

He couldn’t even think. He gave up on it and just felt.

He felt the texture of Sylvain’s tongue rubbing along the underside of his cock, the suction when Sylvain hollowed his cheeks, the soft fleshy pink of his lips sinking down to the base.

He felt Sylvain hoist one of his legs to drape over his shoulder, foot just off the ground. The heel of his foot bumped against Sylvain’s back as Sylvain reared up and forced his head even deeper onto Felix’s cock.

He felt Sylvain hold his leg flush to his ear while blowing him. Sylvain wasn’t even bobbing his head anymore, just sucking and swallowing and moving his tongue. The soft smoothness of Sylvain’s cheek on his inner thigh drove him crazy. His blood was pumping so hard that surely Sylvain must have been able to feel the pulse pounding through his femoral artery against his cheekbone.

And then Sylvain slung his other leg over his shoulder, and Felix was losing it with both feet off the ground, toes curling at Sylvain’s back—

Felix couldn’t help it when his thighs tensed, squeezing Sylvain’s face in place as he came, moaning and shaking hard. He came down Sylvain’s throat. He barely had the wherewithal to register that Sylvain didn’t even _try_ to pull away, drinking down his release.

As he caught his breath and came down from the orgasm, he opened his eyes to find Sylvain planting a few kisses on the fresh bruise on his inner thigh. Felix shakily got out, “I can—I can return the favor.”

“Oh no, that’s okay!” Sylvain said quickly. “I’m really happy with just this.”

“But really, I can—I can do that. For you.” Felix felt himself flush at being unable to even say the words for what he was offering.

“It’s really okay,” Sylvain assured him. “Now that I know about your insane sexual appetite, I’m saving my stamina for later.” He winked.

Felix couldn’t even decide what to feel about that, but then Sylvain was leaning his head on Felix’s knee and smiling up at him, and it was bliss.

As Felix eventually pulled his pants back on, face burning while Sylvain babbled happily about something or other in the background, he did some mental math and decided he would have to try harder next time.

Sylvain had made him come, what, four times? And he had only gotten Sylvain off once, so the score stood at 4 to 1.

Or 4 to 2, if he counted giving Sylvain a handjob sophomore year—but wait, no, Felix had come then too. Although Sylvain hadn’t known about it or even done anything besides kiss him and look good in his lap. So… 5 to 2? But technically Felix had been the one to get himself off last night… was it sex if Sylvain was kissing him while he jerked off?

Anyway, the point was that he wasn’t doing a great job of proving himself sexually.

But this wasn’t a complete waste. He still had about five more days, and he’d gotten a little bit further into Sylvain’s head, gained some valuable information.

(And he had to admit, he hadn’t minded getting head again either.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit sexual content. This will happen a lot.
> 
> If you know me IRL, I would recommend command+Fing "A warm cloud of exhaustion" and reading from there until "the hands on-approach". Kudos to you if you're actually still reading and skipping the explicit scenes, but wow. Good luck.


	23. asking for it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday, May 11th. Felix still has a lot to figure out where communication is concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight content warning in end notes! Please check them if you know me in real life.

“Felix, can I kiss you?” Sylvain asked. It was his new favorite thing, apparently.

The first time he did it was while they made black bean and cilantro quesadillas for lunch.

“How do you feel about extra cilantro?” Sylvain asked while getting it out of the fridge.

“Uh, positively,” replied Felix from where he was grating the cheese. “I feel positively about extra cilantro.”

Sylvain glanced back at him and smiled broadly. “Hey Felix, can I kiss you?”

Felix immediately felt antsy. “Huh? Uh, yeah, I—” Sylvain pecked him on the lips before he had time to mentally prepare himself. Felix nearly shredded his hand down the side of the grater in surprise.

Sylvain laughed, pulling away and casually flitting back over to his cutting board. “Oh, this is perfect! Dimitri wants what we have!”

Felix’s heart stuttered. “Wait, what?” he asked, still disoriented by the kiss.

Then he followed Sylvain’s gaze to the cilantro he was chopping and realized Sylvain was not referring to the chemistry between them that electrocuted his nervous system every time they came into contact, like something out of a Cascada song. “Oh. You mean the cilantro gene.”

“Yeah, the cilantro gene! What else?”

“Oh… I thought…” Kisses? Infatuation? “Uh, positive feelings?”

Sylvain laughed in disbelief. “You have positive feelings?”

“Oh, um” —Felix improvised wildly— “only about cilantro.” Something about Sylvain was really scrambling his brain today.

“Well, Dimitri probably wishes he had positive feelings, too.” Sylvain grinned and swept past Felix to get out a pan, brushing against Felix’s arm as he went. Felix was nearly certain it was deliberate.

The second time was as they were almost finished cooking.

“Felix, can I kiss you?” Sylvain said out of the blue while Felix was next to him, filling their glasses with a pitcher.

His face suddenly burned. “Uh, sure? Why—” Once again, Felix was cut off by Sylvain’s lips swiftly pressing against his own. He spilled water onto his hand. He accidentally set the pitcher down on the counter with a loud clatter of ceramic on formica.

Sylvain pulled away and laughed at the look on his face, which just made him even more flustered. “What are you doing? I could have dropped the pitcher!” he snapped.

Sylvain gave him an amused look. “I literally did ask permission.”

“God, you are just—” Felix cut himself off and glared at Sylvain, who did not look one bit repentant. And to be fair, Felix himself could not figure out why he was so annoyed about this. He wiped the water off the counter and finished setting the table just to vent his aggravation. “Great. Now we need more paper towels, too,” he noted bitchily.

“You planning on making more messes?” Felix had to ruffle Sylvain’s hair as viciously as he could to reroute the desire to smack him upside the head.

The third time was when they were finally sitting down to eat at the kitchen island.

Felix was just about to take the first bite when Sylvain caught his eye and swiftly asked, “HeyFelixcanIkissyou?” as if it were one word.

Feeling his face going red with mortification again, Felix shifted and sputtered, “Well, yeah, but—” Sylvain leaned across the kitchen island and kissed him, and that was the final straw.

Felix flung his quesadilla back down onto his plate. “Stop doing that!” he hissed. He wasn’t even sure what his problem with it was, but he sure had a problem with it.

“Doing what?”

“You keep—I don’t know, fucking—stealing kisses from me!”

“Oh, sorry, do you want me to give them back?” Sylvain teased.

“No, I just—” Fuck. Why had he worded it in the gayest way possible? Felix growled in frustration, though he didn’t know where the frustration was coming from. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“What, kissing you?”

“No, _asking_ to kiss me. And then kissing me immediately.”

“Because you make the cutest, funniest little face—”

“Sylvain!”

“It’s because you never kiss me unprovoked!” Sylvain burst out.

“I—what?” Felix asked, caught utterly off guard.

“I just—I want to kiss you all the time, and I try not to, but then sometimes I just _really_ want to, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—so then I ask, but I also don’t want to wait because then you might change your mind, and—”

“Wait,” Felix said to put a pause on the conversation. There was so much to unpack there. “Okay, first of all, what do you mean by _never?_ It’s only been, like, one day since we started… whatever we’ve started.”

“Technically we first fucked a year ago,” Sylvain pointed out.

Oh. So they were definitely fucking. “Okay, well—”

“And regardless of the timeframe, never once have you kissed me on the mouth unprovoked,” Sylvain insisted.

Felix rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “Okay, secondly, _unprovoked_? What does that even mean? Are you trying to provoke me?”

Sylvain rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t. We’ve been kissing, like, non-stop.”

“No, I mean—” Sylvain made a strange face. “You know. Outside of the context of sex. If I don’t prompt you, you’re not ever gonna kiss me.”

“Sylvain, we made out last night for like—I don’t know, half an hour straight?”

“Yeah,” Sylvain retorted. “Because you wanted to jerk off.”

“But” —Felix scrambled for evidence to the contrary— “I kissed you first while playing Mario Kart! And while playing kiss or slap!”

“Yeah, you kissed me— _on the neck,_ and _as part of a game_. And then we had sex. Both times.”

“Uh, okay? So?”

“So that’s why I’m asking! Do you only like kissing before sex? And I’m not saying that to mock you, it’s a serious question. Because—I mean, that’d be okay,” Sylvain said quickly. “I just—I just wanted to know.”

“Can’t you just… kiss me _without_ asking?” Felix asked. “So that you don’t have to dive-bomb me as soon as I open my mouth to answer?”

Sylvain just looked at him, confused. “I don’t get it. Are you okay with me kissing you just for the sake of a kiss and nothing else? And if you’re okay with it, how come you never do it first?”

Instead of answering, Felix placed both palms flat on Sylvain’s chest and leaned forward to touch their lips together.

It wasn’t really the kind of kiss that required any action to reciprocate; it was chaste. It was just letting their mouths press softly together. But Sylvain reciprocated it by placing a hand on the small of Felix’s back. A strong warmth spread through Felix at the gesture.

Oh. Was that why he’d kept getting flustered earlier? No, that was something else. Felix still couldn’t put his finger on why he had been so annoyed.

And he wasn’t annoyed by this. This was just so romantic that he felt spoiled by it. “There,” Felix said quietly as he pulled away. “A kiss, and nothing else. So you can stop asking now.”

Sylvain blinked at him for a second. “So… does that mean I should just wait for you to kiss me?”

“No, idiot,” Felix said. “It means you should just stop asking.”

“So what should I do when I want to kiss?”

Felix sighed in exasperation and grabbed Sylvain’s hand, knitting their fingers together. Sylvain’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Wait, was this the first time they had ever held hands?

Felix racked his brain. Sylvain had held his hands while dragging him out of his chair to dance to September, and while checking how the scrape on his hand was healing—and likewise, Felix had taken Sylvain’s hand to put a bandaid on his cut finger—but Felix realized that yes, this was the first time they were holding hands without a excuse. It made the same warm, happy rush from before linger in his body.

“You don’t have to ask,” Felix finally said. “You can just… tell me when you want to kiss me, or when you want me to kiss you. Or you can just kiss me when you want to. When it feels right. Just not when I’m about to eat this fucking quesadilla.”

Sylvain laughed and finally let him eat. Felix ate the whole meal left-handed.

When they were both nearly finished eating, Felix realized he had liked holding Sylvain’s hand and would sadly have to let go to clean up his dishes. He eased his hand off of Sylvain’s and gathered his courage to say, “This was… really good.”

“Yeah, thanks for the cilantro, Lysithea!” Sylvain said, misunderstanding what Felix had enjoyed. Sylvain lifted his last bite of his last quesadilla in a toast to Lysithea’s gardening skills before consuming it. As they cleared the counter, Sylvain suddenly did a little tap-dance and said, “Ooh, I just thought of how we can repay her for the herbs!”

“I thought we were doing cookies again?”

“Okay, but hear me out: banana bread! We could make a loaf for her and a loaf for us!”

“I hate bananas,” Felix objected immediately.

“You don’t hate _my_ banana.”

Felix groaned, mortified flush returning to his cheeks just when he thought he had banished it. “I cannot believe you just said that.”

“Can you deny it though?”

“Yes. I hate every part of you. _Especially_ your banana.”

“Cheers, man, same to you!” Sylvain handed him the three overripe bananas. “So? What do you say?”

“No. No way. I am not making banana bread,” Felix vowed. Sylvain grinned and kissed him without asking.

Needless to say, they made banana bread.

“Wait, so this is bread but it _doesn’t_ use yeast?” Felix squinted at the recipe as they got out all the ingredients.

“Yes. It’s a different kind of bread.”

“And you don’t even have to knead it?”

“Nope.”

“What?” Felix shook his head in dismay. “Baking is insanity.”

For some reason, Sylvain kinda lost it laughing at that.

“What’s so funny?” Felix demanded.

“I dunno! You just crack me up!”

Felix grinned. “Like an egg.”

“Exactly like an egg,” Sylvain agreed. “Ooh, Felix! We could add cocoa powder to the banana bread! It nicely balances out the sweetness.”

“Do it,” Felix said instantly. “The more bitter, the better.”

“The bitterer, the betterer,” Sylvain echoed, starting to measure out the ingredients.

“Wait, aren’t you an English major?” Felix stirred the bowl as Sylvain added everything to it. The dry ingredients kept puffing up out of the bowl and dusting his arms no matter how gently he tried to mix them.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I’m just sitting there learning words!” Sylvain said, looking insulted. “Besides, the English language is chockablock full of bullshit words, and prescriptive grammar and stuff is all fake too, and—wait, I’m sorry, what do you think a major in English is anyway? Just four years of vocab and spelling quizzes?”

“Is it _not_ four years of vocab and spelling quizzes?” Felix said, feigning indifference.

“You know, it would be pretty funny if it was, now that I think about it!” Sylvain laughed. “Damn, can you imagine if it really _was_ just learning fancy words? I mean, you do kinda pick up a few via osmosis, unfortunately, if you spend time too much time with the, ahem, _overly_ creative writers.”

“Ha. As if you know fancy words.”

Sylvain narrowed his eyes dangerously. “Oh, I sure do!” he said like it was a threat. “And I can use them, too.”

“Do it,” Felix egged him on. “Say something sophisticated.”

Of course, Sylvain reverted to flirting as his default format of speaking and went from there. “Your eyes… fluoresce. Like two resplendent orbs of…luminosity? Like the scintillant moon, reflected on the… sonorous, tempestuous ocean, which is also, uh, somehow concurrently neath the iridescence of the sun—”

Felix was already wheezing with laughter.

Sylvain placed his hands on his hips. “What’s so… frolicsome?”

“Oh my god,” Felix managed to get out. “You sound like Lorenz!”

Sylvain frowned, though it looked like he was struggling with it. “I do not appre— _cherish_ your impertinence, you—you saucy scoundrel!”

Felix laughed harder and clutched his stomach. “Oh my god, this is so funny. You’re getting a degree in useless words.”

Sylvain grinned and advanced on him. “You mean superfluous… um, utterances!”

Felix cackled with glee and had to let go of the wooden spoon and lean back against the counter to not fall over. “At some point this will stop being funny—but right now it’s still really funny.”

“Yes, please advise me when I might cease. This is, um…bordering on burdensome.”

“Are you kidding? This is perfect for you! You’re already so extra in every other way.”

“Ugh, please,” Sylvain said, rolling his eyes melodramatically. “Just call me pretentious.”

Felix kissed him instead. Felix put his hands on Sylvain’s waist and leaned up on his tiptoes until their smiles touched. He pulled back to see Sylvain’s bright eyes as they grinned at each other like the idiots they undoubtedly were. “See?” Felix said, unable to stop smiling. “You don’t need to prompt me to get a kiss and nothing else.”

“Nothing else?” Sylvain asked. “You sure about that?”

Felix’s heart raced. “I—I meant—”

“‘Cause you got flour all over my shirt again.” Sylvain dipped a finger into the batter and smeared it on Felix’s shirt.

“Hey!” Felix grabbed the tub of Crisco they had used to grease the loaf pan and scooped some out to smush onto Sylvain’s arm.

Sylvain retaliated by grabbing the wooden spoon out of the batter and splatter painting Felix in batter, while Felix fumbled for the bag of flour, grabbed a handful, and did his damn best to throw it at Sylvain’s face, though it fell like snow onto them both. And Sylvain laughed, and Felix kissed that smile again, wrapping his arms around Sylvain’s neck.

Sylvain reached around his waist and stepped closer into him, as if he were reaching for something on the counter behind him as they kissed. And it was such fun. Lighthearted, and silly, and innocent—

Felix felt an egg crack on his head. Sylvain pulled away from the kiss, laughing and grinding the shards of eggshell into his scalp for good measure. Felix touched a hand to his hair, stunned. “Oh, I am going to fucking _get_ you—”

It felt like both an eternity and no time at all before they were both winded and absolutely plastered in batter, with Felix seated on the countertop and Sylvain standing between his legs. Felix kissed and growled at Sylvain at the same time, having already broken at least two eggs on Sylvain’s head. “This is such a stupid, pointless fucking waste of food,” he muttered between kisses.

He went to thread his fingers in Sylvain’s hair and then pulled away, not loving the slick feeling of raw egg on his hand as much as he loved Sylvain’s hair. “God, this is disgusting,” he complained. He wiped his hand on Sylvain’s sleeve.

“Aww, but you taste even better than usual now!” Sylvain grabbed more baker’s cocoa from the little tub and smeared it onto Felix’s mouth. “Chocolate over cilantro any day of the week.” He kissed Felix again, and Felix had to agree it was worth it after all.

When they finally stopped kissing and laughing and throwing things at each other long enough to take stock of their surroundings, Felix suddenly came out of whatever trance Sylvain had put him in and realized it looked like a baking show contestant had gone mad in their kitchen. “Oh fuck,” Felix muttered. “Now we have to clean the kitchen. Shit, I have class in like half an hour—and now I’ll need to change, and get the fucking egg out of my hair—”

“Well,” Sylvain said, looking around and nodding placidly as he took in the havoc they had wreaked on his kitchen. “Son of a bitch. I think we might need more paper towels after all.”

Oh, Felix loved this boy so much. His heart seemed to glow with it.

Sylvain gave him one more peck on the lips before disentangling himself from his arms. “You go change. I’ll take care of it.”

“Oh. Sorry. I mean—thanks, Sylvain. You’re—”

“The best?”

“Tolerable.” He hopped off the counter. “I might even be able to forgive you for the egg. One day.”

“That’s okay,” said Sylvain. “I’ll wait.”

_hey annette life has suddenly become busy but i wanted to keep you in the loop_

_omg felix hi!!!!_

_r u in class rn?_

_yeah_

_OHH gotcha! i figured_

_otherwise i would call!!_

_yeah, i know. i do appreciate that_

_so whats up?_

_well you know how i said i’m gay_

_yes!! u haven’t changed ur mind, right?!?_

_uh, no_

_i just wanted to tell u something if that’s alright_

_of course thats alright!! you can always tell me things!!_

_ok i just_

_can you promise not to tell anyone_

_absolutely. my lips are sealed._

_ok. i like sylvain_

_LIKE like??_

_seriously, annette?_

_do u think that’s what i want to hear right now?_

_i’m seriously asking!!! like are you admitting to being friends with him_

_or admitting to being gay for him_

_um, both_

_like like AND like!!???!_

_wow i’m so happy for you!!_

_the plot thiccens_

_what?_

_i appreciate u telling me_

_yeah i just felt like someone should know_

_in case i somehow die of it_

_omg felix youre not gonna die from having a crush!_

_are you sure? feels like it_

_awwwwwwww thats kinda cute_

_no. stop that._

_awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww_

_but also lol i already knew??_

_what? how??_

_uh you told me two days ago? before my bday party?_

_what? i didn’t say anything about sylvain!_

_i just said i was gay!_

_felix. i have full sight and vision._

_what?_

_oops my typing fingers got ahead of themselves_

_i meant full sight and hearing_

_as in, i am capable of observing things with my eyes and ears_

_ok?? but still i only told u that i’m gay_

_yeah, and u just coincidentally happened to realize while quarantining with him?_

_felix im sorry but i have to laugh_

_like dude, give me a little more credit!! i can put two and two together_

_oh no, is it really that obvious?_

_i mean,,,,, it is to me at least._

_i literally told u that u like him last week, remember?_

_oh yeah. i guess you did_

_tbh i can’t believe i didn’t see it even sooner_

_u guys are like two sides of the same gay coin!_

_in fact, how did it take YOU this long to realize you’re in love with him??_

_hmm…love is such a strong word though…_

_hell yeah, it is! love is awesome!! love is powerful!!!_

_and hate is a strong word, but you use it for him all the time lololol_

_i don’t see why you’re still denying it._

_its just. it’s so much to feel_

_awwwww_

_stop awwing_

_aww, are you embarrassed?_

_god i hate this_

_ok haha sorry sorry_

_i say it lovingly tho_

_i know…_

_but like, this is great, isn’t it?!!? u can just tell him!_

_what r u talking about_

_i mean, doesn’t he always flirt with you anyway?_

_i mean yeah, he flirts with me, but he flirts with everyone_

_but he’s been acting really weird about “pushing my boundaries”?_

_whatever that means_

_wow the plot just gets thiccer and thiccer…._

_i_

_dont know what to say to that_

_god felix. your life is a fucking com com_

_what_

_oh typo. i meant rom com_

_again, what_

_oh come on felix!! the inherent will-we-wont-we of you and sylvain…_

_the suddenly living together…_

_the you realizing you’re gay while sleeping in his bed…_

_ahh!! i am on the edge of my seat!!!_

_uh why? where are you sitting?_

_it is a saying_

_meaning that i find your personal life a riveting source of entertainment_

_oh right_

_we really just need to communicate verbally huh_

_yeah i think so_

_well find a time when you’re not in class!!_

_bc i LOVE hearing about u being a little lovesick!_

_and after all the time you witnessed me pining for mercedes i feel like i’ve earned it_

_i think that i’m the one entitled to compensation for that, actually_

_no i think you deserve a chance to understand what i went thru while you just rolled your eyes at me_

_well. ok yeah._

_i guess i brought this on myself by sleeping in his bed_

_yeah kinda, that’s some thotty behavior_

_but also he did this to me. i’m blaming sylvain_

_for carrying me into his apartment. and bandaging my hand._

_yeah! now THAT’s some thotty behavior!!_

_seriously felix i think he likes u_

_well yes, as a friend but…_

_let’s just say i don’t think he’s writing me any love letters._

_he could be!!!_

_no he couldn’t, he would have nowhere to hide them_

_i live with him, i would notice_

_unless he’s like, immediately eating them after writing_

_that’s a joke, right?_

_oh yes. i forgot the lololol_

_“unless he’s like, immediately eating them after writing lololol”_

_is what i meant to say_

_ok yeah that is equally hilarious and unthinkable_

_oh i feel like it is EASILY thinkable!!!_

_just imagine him, stuffing paper in his mouth!_

_being like “well, felix said he would make me eat my words”_

_how did u know i’ve said that_

_hahahahahah_

_i didn’t, it just sounds like a you thing to say_

_well good luck with your crush!! omg i’m blushing on your behalf_

_thank you but don’t_

_and im serious we gotta find a time to talk with audible words_

_sounds good_

_yes, they WILL sound good_

_ok thanks annette, i’ll ttyl_

_bye!!!_

But just as Felix tried to turn his attention back to class, he got a message from Sylvain, who had come to sit directly across from him at the dining table after cleaning up both the kitchen and himself. And as it happened, some of Annette’s theories might not have been as far-fetched as Felix had thought.

_hey felix look over here_

_im in class_

_you’re typing a lot for someone who’s in class_

_you’re typing a lot for someone who can’t write_

_just look over here for a sec!_

_why_

_i wrote you a poem_

_ok so… why_

_for shits and giggles of course_

_no i mean why should i look over there_

_won’t u just text it to me?_

_no you have to look over here_

_this is the kind of thing you should experience on a full screen_

_no thanks_

_awww felix come on! i’ll send you the first line as a teaser_

_i don’t need to be teased_

_clearly u do. here it is_

_roses are red, so is my blood_

_i don’t want to hear the rest_

_“fuck, sylvain, it feels so fucking good”_

_i’m never speaking to you again_

_you just did_

_and that didn’t even rhyme_

_yes it did_

_no. it literally didn’t._

_yes it did_

_do you say blood like it rhymes with hood? or good so it rhymes with bud?_

_damn, you’re good at thinking of rhyming words!_

_uh, thanks?_

_i wrote more_

_do u wanna hear more_

_absolutely not_

_would you rather i send nudes_

_if you send me nudes during class, I Will Kill You_

_ok! get ready for more poems then!_

_here goes:_

_across the table…_

_why are you so far away?_

_come sit in my lap :3_

_i hate this so much_

_oh i just thought of another!_

_please no_

_ok here goes:_

_there once was a guy named felix_

_no_

_who had several holes in his helix_

_no_

_he ran into me_

_he lives here for free_

_and now i’m obsessed with his penix_

Felix closed his messages app. He wouldn’t validate Sylvain with any more read receipts if this was what he was sending.

The little red notification bubble appeared with the number 1 in it. Felix ignored it, even though the sight of it itched at his brain, begging him to resolve it. The number in it quickly changed from 1 to 2. And then to 5. Then 14.

Felix leaned out of view of his laptop and looked Sylvain dead in the eyes, every word of profanity he knew on the tip of his tongue—

Sylvain turned his laptop around to show the screen, and the entire thing was taken up by a word document where he had written—in what must have been size 48 font— “ _Feeeeeliiiiiix I miss youuuuu_.” Ah. So this was the fullscreen experience Sylvain had been talking about.

Felix ignored him and looked pointedly back at his own computer screen. A moment later, he glanced up to find a new message waiting for him.

“ _How much longer, Felix?!?_ ”

Felix put up his middle finger (out of view of the camera, of course). Sylvain frowned, turned his laptop around, and started typing again. Felix turned his attention back to class, and succeeded at thinking about class for about five minutes.

Until Sylvain turned the laptop around again. “ _But I want to make you come in my hand again..._ ”

Felix could physically feel his mouth go dry and his face go bright red. Hopefully everyone else in this video call was paying as little attention to it as he was.

Sylvain smirked and scrolled further down the document. “ _Or mouth. Though I keep thinking about having your fingers in my mouth.”_

He paused in between messages to let Felix read, then continued scrolling. _“I can’t stop thinking about the sounds you make.”_

Sylvain opened his mouth to catch Felix’s attention, drawing his eyes away from the screen and toward his face. And then made an incredibly shameless O-face and imitated Felix moaning—quietly, but with feeling.

It was just barely quiet enough that Felix’s microphone maybe— _maybe_ —wouldn’t pick it up. Felix quickly put himself on mute, which he probably should have done earlier. It was definitely the right move—especially when he saw “ _My mouth feels empty without your tongue in it :(_ _”_ on Sylvain’s screen and nearly laughed out loud at it.

Unfortunately, Sylvain was nowhere near done.

“ _I’ll let you fuck me whichever way you want_.”

 _“Or I’ll_ _fuck **you** whichever way you want_.”

_“You, me, position of your choice...the nearest table…”_

Felix leaned out of view of the camera to hiss, “This _is_ the nearest table, you fucking pest.” Sylvain turned his computer around to add more to his word document from hell.

“ _Great! So which one of us is getting bent over it?”_

Felix hoped no one in his class noticed him rolling his eyes like he wanted to die.

“ _Or I could come sit where your laptop is.”_

“ _I bet it would be a pretty comfortable way to blow me, if you’re still interested in that.”_

_“Care to test this hypothesis with me?”_

_“Or you could come over here…crawl under the table…”_

_“I mean, I liked sucking you off under the table, so maybe you’d like it too?”_

_“Ooh, if I tell you that I’m better at sucking dick than you, will that make you want to prove me wrong?”_

_“I just think you’d look so good on your knees...”_

_“So when are you going to let me put you there?”_

_“I want your mouth all over me.”_

_“I wanna know what it’s like to be inside of you.”_

Felix couldn’t even figure out what that meant exactly, but god, it sure turned him on.

And while the laptop kept doing all the dirty talk, Sylvain’s grin just got wider and more smug. Felix couldn’t even imagine how he could bear to type all this shit up.

_“You’re driving me crazy just by being so close to me.”_

_“Do you even know how fucking cute your face is right now?”_

_“God, you make me so horny.”_

_“Hurry up, Felix, I need you to kiss me again! I want you so bad!”_

_“I need you, like, 20 minutes ago!”_

_“Please, baby? I’m not too proud to beg for it…”_

Oh, so this was definitely payback for calling Sylvain baby earlier. And unfortunately, it was really, really working. Sylvain watched with an evil little smirk that made Felix want to absolutely attack him.

When Felix was finally, _finally_ free, he closed his laptop and marched over to Sylvain, irate and pissy with how unfairly riled up that got him. Sylvain seemed to read the aggression in his face and darted out of his chair laughing, but Felix didn’t let him escape that easily.

“What the everloving _hell_ was all that about?” he demanded, cornering Sylvain against the wall.

Sylvain batted his eyelashes with a healthy dose of fake innocence. “What was all what about?”

“How long had you been planning to do” —Felix grasped for words— _“that_?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sylvain said with that horrendous shit-eating grin. “Years, maybe?”

“You little—”

Then Sylvain flipped them around and pinned Felix against the wall.

Well. That wasn’t “the nearest table” by any stretch of the imagination, but he’d take it.

Sylvain leaned in closer, flattening his body against Felix—oh fuck oh fuck, he had forgotten he liked this. Between feeling a little overpowered and feeling Sylvain hardening against his leg, Felix’s own body was _humming_ with arousal.

Sylvain laughed quietly, pressing him harder into the wall. “Damn, you really wanna get it, huh?

Felix’s breath came out as harsh panting as he ground against Sylvain, rubbing his aching erection against him. “God, you’re such a little bitch—”

“Ooh, you’re getting better at the dirty talk,” Sylvain said, voice silky and smug. Felix twitched against his leg at the sound of it, and Sylvain grinned like he had felt it.

Felix scowled. “Is that fucking sarcastic? I learned from the” —Sylvain’s thigh ground against his crotch— “the _worst_ ,” Felix hissed through gritted teeth.

“You were about to say best.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Too bad I don’t get ruined by dirty talk as much as you seem to.” Sylvain kissed him innocently, like he was above that kind of desperation.

Felix had probably never been so infuriated in his life. “Fucking fight me, Sylvain,” he said, looking up into Sylvain’s face.

“You sure?” Sylvain asked, still teasing. “I don’t want to hurt you too badly.”

Felix’s blood boiled. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

Sylvain chuckled and kept moving his thigh between Felix’s legs. Slowly. Not enough.

“What, that’s it?” Felix challenged. “I knew you were all bark and no bite.”

“Would you rather have the bite then?”

Felix’s whole body pulsed hot, and he suddenly realized what his problem was.

He just wasn’t very good at saying yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for uhhh the beginning of some explicit sexual content that will continue next chapter? If you know me irl, you probably want to stop reading when Felix stops texting Sylvain.
> 
> Sorry this chapter took so long, I suddenly decided to add it and had to write it basically from scratch... which is why the chapter count just increased from 33 to 34! But also please let me know if there are typos, i'll admit I didn't proofread this one as thoroughly as i do most.
> 
> Also I've now posted my [playlists](https://fangirlasdfghjkl.tumblr.com/tagged/playlist-1) that cover the story chronologically (like, from freshman year until Annette's bday party) for both Felix and Sylvain in case people are interested! Please click through to listen to them on spotify bc for some reason tumblr makes the audio quality shitty <3


	24. opposite day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday, May 11th. Sylvain never stops being surprised by Felix, and he still wants to come undone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major content warnings in the end notes! If you know me in real life, you probably have to skip most of the chapter.

Felix was too hot for words. Literally, his skin was burning up and he apparently couldn’t speak.

“What, no answer?” Sylvain teased. He kissed him and pressed one leg between Felix’s, nudging at his obvious erection. Felix quietly gasped into his mouth. “Oh, does that feel good?”

Felix made a funny little frustrated moan that Sylvain wanted to hear more of. “Fuck you,” he spat, bucking into Sylvain in a way that was either trying to push him off, or get off on his leg.

“You’re not a very good liar, you know.” Sylvain pressed his knee up again to prove it, dragging another bitten-off moan out of Felix. “Seems like your mouth is more honest when moaning than speaking.”

“Want me to say it again?” Felix looked him dead in the eyes, made a strange pleading expression, and in the most wanton, exaggerated, pornographic voice Sylvain had ever heard, moaned out, “Fuck you,” making it high-pitched and full and desperate—completely different from the contained, gasping moans he actually made.

And despite Felix’s clear intention to overdo it, Sylvain still found it ridiculously hot. Or maybe that was the intention after all.

“That’s not what you sound like, though,” Sylvain said, trying to keep his composure. “It’s more like this.” He let out a slow, soft moan, the kind Felix made when shaking in his arms. “ _Ahh…Sylvain…_ ”

Felix gaped at him, rendered speechless by the sound he had just made. He made that same adorable abashed face as when Sylvain had asked to kiss him.

“At least, that’s what you sound like when you’re with me,” Sylvain added, quite pleased with Felix’s reaction. “But when you’re alone, it’s more like this.” He put his mouth next to Felix’s ear and panted quietly.

Felix’s face was flaming when he pulled back to look at it.

“Oh, sorry, did you think I never noticed? That you would start breathing differently around, say, 2am or so? When you thought I was asleep?”

“Wh—how—”

He pressed in close to Felix’s ear again and lowered his voice almost to a whisper. “Sometimes I had trouble sleeping too, y’know. But it was mostly your fault.”

Felix squirmed.

“And not just at night, either,” Sylvain continued, grinding Felix against the wall. “How about when I would get out of class early and come back to find you in your bed in the middle of the day? Funny, isn’t it? How you only ever ‘took a nap’ when I was out of the room? And always happened to ‘wake up’ right as I walked in? Guess that’s why you wanted to know my class schedule. And you always made such a cute little guilty face when I would open the door and see you… drove me crazy.” He kissed Felix’s cheek and pulled away.

And Felix looked utterly disgraced. “Yeah, just like that,” Sylvain said appreciatively. “Are you doing it on purpose to tempt me?”

“ _No._ ”

Sylvain leaned in close to whisper again. “Do you wanna know how many times I came thinking of you?”

“You counted?”

“At first. Then I lost track.” He drew back to see the delicious humiliation on Felix’s face. “Who were you thinking of when you masturbated, Felix?”

Felix glared furiously at him. “No one.” Yeah right.

A lightbulb flicked on in Sylvain’s head. “Okay, how about we play a game? Whenever I ask you a question, you’re going to answer honestly or not at all. Then I’ll believe whatever you say.”

“Why do you get to make the rules?” Felix complained.

“Make your own game if you wanna make the rules.”

“Ugh, really? I know you like games, but seriously? Even in the bedroom?”

“We’re not in the bedroom.”

“You know what I mean!” Felix snapped.

“Yeah, but can you really say you really mind?” Sylvain asked. “Remember, answer honestly or not at all.” Felix clamped his mouth shut. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Felix then spent the next five minutes staying stubbornly silent. Well, not silent—he gasped and made those small adorable sounds like always when Sylvain ground him against the wall and played with his chest—but he stayed nonverbal.

“Come on, Felix. Don’t you like this?” No matter what Sylvain asked, Felix refused to respond. “What, nothing to say?” Sylvain almost started feeling bad about touching Felix while he was mute, but when he started to pull away, Felix grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand back to his chest. Some things could be communicated without words, apparently.

But, god, he wanted words. He finally ended up imploring, in the most earnest voice he could muster, “Aww, Felix, please? I miss your voice.” And it might have just been his own wishful thinking, but he thought he saw Felix’s face go a little more rosy. “Pretty please? I’ll do easy questions. Or we can just stop, if you hate it that much.”

Felix reluctantly said, “Fine.” It was first sound with consonants in several minutes.

“What’s my name?” Sylvain rubbed his hand over Felix’s chest, letting his spread fingers brush back and forth over Felix’s nipple through his shirt.

Felix still had the nerve to roll his eyes. “You’re Sylvain Jose Gautier, idiot,” he grumbled, clearly knowing the answer Sylvain was trying to elicit and refusing to cooperate.

“Can you be more concise? Just the first name, please.”

“Sylvain,” Felix said flatly, making it very clear he was not saying the name in a fit of passion.

“Good job!” Sylvain thought for a second that Felix might punch him, but he thankfully refrained. “Next question: Do you want to stop playing this game?”

“Not... necessarily,” Felix mumbled.

“Okay… how does this feel?” Sylvain pinched Felix’s nipple painfully hard. At least he intended to.

Felix’s back stiffened for a split second. “That’s—that’s good.”

“Really?” Sylvain had been trying to make sure Felix would say no. “You can say no if you want to. I _want_ you to say no if you want to.”

Felix made a face. “But then you would stop doing this, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes? Of course? I—” Holy fuck. “So this really feels good?” Sylvain pinched Felix’s nipple again, as hard as he dared.

Felix’s chest arched forward. “Yes!” Felix said in a quiet, breathy voice. Oh, Sylvain would do anything to hear him say that a million times. He reformulated all his questions with the thought of hearing Felix keening “ _Yes!”_ in mind.

He moved to kiss along Felix’s neck. “Would you be mad if I told you how cute you are?”

Felix shivered. “No.”

“…Huh?”

“I said no,” Felix repeated tersely.

Sylvain felt his own pulse accelerate in spite of himself. “Well then,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, “you’re really cute.” As promised, there was no retaliation from Felix except for the needy pull of his hands on Sylvain’s hips.

“So Felix,” Sylvain said conversationally, letting his hands wander to Felix’s waist, “what were you imagining?”

“What?”

“Who were you thinking of when you were touching yourself just six feet away from me?”

Felix scowled. “No one.”

“Really? Because—”

“Really, I wasn’t imagining anyone.”

“Then what did you think of?”

Felix bit the inside of his cheek and looked away. “Hands. Just hands. Someone else’s hands.” Fuck, that was so hot. Sylvain couldn’t help but hope that was true—that Felix had truly never fantasized about anyone at all. It was an intoxicating thought, because it meant that he, Sylvain, might be the only person in the sexual part of Felix’s mind, might occupy that space all by himself.

“How did they touch you?” Sylvain asked, trying to contain his sudden possessiveness.

Felix’s voice got even smaller with shyness. “Like this. Or…”

“Or?”

“Maybe…a bit more…forcefully.”

Oh.

Sylvain squeezed Felix’s hips tighter in his hands and was instantly rewarded with a shocked whine. He wanted to hear more. “You know, you can also talk unprompted,” he said in a low voice. “I only said I wanted you to answer my questions honestly, not that you can only speak when answering questions.”

“Fuck, I know, it’s just—” The short strands of Felix’s dark hair hung around his face, which was contorted with embarrassment even as he panted and rocked against Sylvain. “I’m sorry that I’m still so—”

What was he trying to say? Shy? Nervous?

“Prudish?” Sylvain suggested. “Nah, no worries. You still being a prude after all the sex we’ve had is actually such a turn on. It makes you so much more fun to unravel,” he said with a tongue-in-cheek wink. Felix made a hot little sound and squirmed against him in response. “Aww, are you still embarrassed?”

“ _No._ ”

“Oh? Then why are you so red?”

“I think I’m just that turned on,” Felix admitted, blushing brighter. “Except—yeah. Now I’m embarrassed.” He couldn’t have been any more cuter if he’d tried.

Sylvain wanted to mess him up in every possible way. “Fuck, Felix,” he whispered, finely crafted control wearing away. “What do you most want me to do to you?”

Felix didn’t answer. Maybe it really was asking too much from him to demand that he name his desires.

Just when Sylvain had given up on a response, Felix abruptly opened his mouth and said, “I—I want you to kiss me all over. I want you to touch every inch of my skin. I want…” He trailed off, clearly grasping for words. “I like when you hold me really tight against you. Too tight.”

Sylvain hummed and pulled Felix tight in his arms.

Felix gasped. His next words tumbled over each other in a single rushed stream. “I—I want you to stop being so cautious and controlled around me. Stop asking. Stop adding ‘if you want’ to everything you say. Just—do what you want. I want it. I—I just hate saying yes.”

Holy shit. Sylvain hadn’t expected Felix’s honesty to sound so filthy. “Okay, new game.”

“What now?” Felix groaned.

“I want you to lie in response to everything I ask. Do you…also want to do that?”

Felix breathed heavily. “Have we started already?”

“Not until you say yes.”

“Well, then. Yes.” Then Felix shoved him away.

Sylvain stumbled backwards, blinking in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Pushing you away. Fighting you.” Felix stepped forward to shove him again.

But—what? If that was the lie, then what was the truth? “What?” Sylvain asked, letting Felix bully him toward the sofa.

“You’re so smart, huh?” Felix said, “I want you to give up. Yield. Let me win.”

Sylvain stumbled back as Felix shoved him again. “I—I don’t get it. What do you want me to do?”

“Do. Your. Best.” Felix punctuated each word with a push.

Oh. _Do your worst._ Inviting Sylvain to use real force in return.

So Sylvain fought back. He grabbed at Felix’s wrists to stop him, but Felix let him, surrendering control of his arms and instead using the surprise to press up against Sylvain and bodily force him backwards. “Oh, fuck, Felix, fucking—”

They scuffled their way to the sofa, but instead of pushing him onto it like Sylvain had expected, Felix grabbed his shirt and took them both to the ground, none too gently hauling Sylvain onto his back on the wood floor before climbing on top. His right hip rolled into place against Sylvain’s pelvis to hold him down.

“Are you okay with this?” Felix asked as he pinned Sylvain below him, panting.

“Yes, fuck yes. Are you?”

“No.” Felix ground down hard against Sylvain’s hips, but it was more like fighting than fucking, like wrestling while humping each other's thighs. Sylvain couldn’t imagine a more natural progression of their relationship, a more perfect manifestation of its unplanned, graceless intensity.

Of course. It figured that Felix would find a way to turn fucking back into fighting again.

Sylvain groaned with combined effort and arousal, pushing up with his hips, trying to buck Felix off of him. The hard bar of Felix’s forearm pressed down on his windpipe—just enough to serve as a warning, not enough to cut off air to his lungs. Sylvain felt dizzy from it anyway.

He reached up to pull it off of him, but it was much easier said than done when Felix had the advantage of gravity on his side. Felix just bore down harder. “Ask me a question,” Felix challenged him.

Sylvain swallowed, felt it pass under Felix’s ulna, and asked, as cocky as he could, “Do you really think you’re going to win against me?”

“Yes.”

_No._

Hot, feverish chills wracked his body. Sylvain managed to move the leg that was not currently pinned between Felix’s thighs and plant his foot on the floor, using that leverage and his hands on Felix’s wrists to roll them over, reversing their positions and pinning Felix beneath him.

Felix’s head hit the ground with a grisly _thud_ , but Felix made no sign that he had even felt it. He just kept struggling, thrashing to escape Sylvain’s hold.

With his grip around Felix’s wrists, Sylvain roughly slammed Felix’s arms to the ground on either side of his head to subdue him. Felix’s face contorted, his mouth falling open as he cried out, but that—that wasn’t a sound of pain. Of that Sylvain was almost certain. Either that, or Sylvain was severely fucked up, because it sent a bolt of pleasure down his spine.

He felt Felix’s body tremble with the effort of trying to free his arms. But with gravity now on Sylvain’s side, holding Felix’s wrists down was effortless—so effortless that it felt like Felix’s muscles had quit entirely. Like he couldn’t even move, like there was no strength left in his limbs—

What?

That made no sense—Felix was all lean muscle and dexterity, yet he was utterly unsuccessful at fighting Sylvain off, and panting and red in the face anyway. Why? He should have at least been able to—oh.

Sylvain forced his mouth onto Felix’s and rubbed his tongue into the seam of his mouth. Felix bit his tongue, making him gasp from the bright sudden pain. Ha. Of course Felix was a biter.

“Aww, you’re a little fighter, huh?” Sylvain purred. He pressed his chest to Felix’s and applied his full body weight. He felt Felix’s heart pounding against his own. Felix’s quaking grew stronger until he went limp. Sylvain felt like he had cracked the code.

So Felix actually _loved_ struggling and growling and pushing back against Sylvain before finally melting, going slack and helpless in his hands. Whereas Sylvain liked to obey, Felix wanted to be forced into it. No wonder he was always picking fights.

As he licked into Felix’s lips, Sylvain harshly thrust upward with the leg between Felix’s thighs, delivering a quick warning jolt into Felix’s crotch with his knee. Felix groaned into his mouth. Did it make Felix feel better about succumbing? To be able to think, “Oh well, at least I put up a token resistance”? Or did he just get turned on by forcing Sylvain to pin him down? Sylvain was beginning to think it was a bit of both.

Sylvain felt Felix’s hardness, felt his own stomach lurch with sick euphoria, and gave Felix another rough thrust like he was fucking Felix with his thigh. Felix cried out again, tossing his head to one side to escape the smothering kiss. Sylvain pulled Felix’s arms up above his head and adjusted to hold both of Felix’s wrists with one hand.

He wrenched Felix’s legs open and slid himself into position between them, with one leg hooked high over Felix’s hip. He slotted their pelvises together at the same time as he grabbed Felix’s bent leg, pushing it up toward Felix’s chest and down toward the floor. Felix almost looked like he was going to cry. The stretch must have bordered on painful.

“Shit, is this too much?” Sylvain asked, forgetting their game.

“Yes.” Felix lifted his other leg up to match, letting his legs fall open even wider. Sylvain felt a pulse of arousal as his dick ground into the inside of Felix’s thigh where it met his pelvis.

“Oh fuck—are we still playing the game?” He realized as soon as he asked that it was a useless question, like one of those riddles where one door would always lie and the other would always tell the truth. This question would not help him determine which door Felix was.

Felix responded, “No.” The only possible response. But Sylvain felt Felix’s heels press into the small of his back, pulling him in.

Sylvain panted, desperately trying to think of a question to unlock what was holding him back. “A-are you sure?”

“No,” Felix said through gritted teeth. “No, I’m absolutely not.” So Sylvain had his answer.

He jammed his leg up between Felix’s again. “You’re really getting off on this, aren’t you?”

Felix gasped, eyelashes fluttering rapidly. “No—”

“Don’t know why I bothered asking,” Sylvain said, quiet and husky. “You want this. I know you do. I can feel how hot and worked up you are. Don’t you like this?” He pressed Felix’s bent leg down harder. “When I take what I want from you?”

“No!” Felix cried, uselessly fighting to break free. “No, I don’t!”

 _No._ What a powerful, intoxicating word. Sylvain knew they were in complete understanding, but it felt so taboo. So risky and wrong.

Felix thrashed on the floor underneath him, and Sylvain abruptly took stock of what he was doing: Asking questions that made Felix say no. Grinding him into the floor, fully-clothed and only half-hidden behind the sofa.

At least, Sylvain was 90% sure that they were mostly hidden from view behind the couch, but the 10% risk of exhibitionism from the floor-to-ceiling windows and sliding glass door sent a thrill through him. He wondered if he was the only one thinking that, and then realized he didn’t have to wonder. He kissed and bit at Felix’s neck using way too much pressure, and then moved up to his ear to ask, “You know the curtains to the balcony aren’t drawn, right?”

Felix shivered and made a deep, gasping sound in his throat. “N-no,” he got out between breaths.

“ _Yes_ , Felix. Wouldn’t it be awful if someone saw us?”

“Yes.”

 _No._ Holy shit. Sylvain wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take before he started ripping off his clothes, or Felix’s clothes, or both, but one of them had to break first, and it wasn’t going to be him. Sylvain groaned, and then, in a move so daring that it almost scared him, he put a hand to Felix’s hair and tugged.

“N—yes!” Felix said with a wince. “That—ah— _doesn’t_ hurt.”

Sylvain released his hair immediately and soothed over the spot with his hand, heart pounding. So Felix liked it rough in every way but one. He could work with that. “Fuck, Felix, you’re so cute. Will you beg for me?”

Felix hissed through clenched teeth. “No. I won’t.”

“Do it, Felix. I want you to beg.”

“Ah, Sylvain—” Felix shook silently as Sylvain ground their clothed erections together in small, rough thrusts. And fuck, the friction was incredible—rutting against the rough of Felix’s jeans—so good, so addictive. His dick was absolutely aching to touch Felix bare. “Please, Sylvain, please don’t—ah—stop, don’t—”

He couldn’t even tell what Felix was begging for. _Don’t stop?_ Or _stop, don’t?_ Was it masterful ambiguity on Felix’s part? Or was Felix just born for exactly this kind of play?

The thought was so hot that Sylvain nearly came on the spot. This was the most fucked-up and effective therapy he would ever receive. “Felix,” he panted desperately, wondering if he was going too far, “do you want me to make you cry?”

With a muffled groan, Felix tossed his head, beautifully, intoxicatingly powerless to the pleasure.He looked magnificent from this angle, arms stretched long with his hands pinned over his head.“No, please,” he begged desperately. “Please. No, no, no—”

And that was Felix’s way of saying _yes, yes, yes_.

Sylvain bent his head and bit down hard on Felix’s neck. Felix moaned loudly in his ear, shaking underneath him, and Sylvain just closed his eyes and rocked his hips faster, rougher, humping Felix into the floor, losing his mind at the indisputable rigid heat he felt on the crease of his hip with every thrust. “Ah, stop, stop—”

Sylvain dared to clamp down a little tighter with his teeth, digging them deep into Felix’s neck. He was almost surprised that he hadn’t yet broken the skin and tasted blood. Felix made a sound like a sob, and Sylvain felt sinfully brutish for what he was doing. But this was what Felix had asked for.

He pulled back to see Felix’s face. There were wet tracks from the corners of his eyes. He kept grinding as he watched a tear leak from Felix’s tightly shut eyes, making his inky eyelashes glisten with wetness. He dove back in to bite the other side of Felix’s neck until Felix made that desperate sound again. “Oh, Felix. You’re so pretty when you cry,” Sylvain said against his throat.

Felix’s breathing accelerated into harsh, panicked-sounding hyperventilating. His whole body tensed. His face twisted into an anguished, primal cry. “Ah, ah, ah—” His body rolled jerkily under Sylvain’s. His mouth was soft and dark and open, mewling pathetically with each rhythmic thrust.

Sylvain rocked his hips forward in time to meet Felix’s, which felt shockingly hot against him. Then, as the hiccuping sobs blended back into soft moans, Felix’s tempo started to slow, with longer intervals between the twitches of his hips.

Sylvain’s eyes widened. “Did you—did you just—” The realization was the last bit of stimulation he needed to push him over the edge.

Sylvain used what little control he had left to clench his jaw through it, to keep Felix’s name caged behind his teeth, feeling like he might swallow his tongue or asphyxiate from it. _Felix_. _Felix, Felix_ , _Felix_.

In that moment of distraction, Felix’s hands slipped free from his hold. Sylvain felt them on his back, grabbing the back of his shirt. Felix pulled him down tightly, holding Sylvain to him, and Sylvain drowned in the scent of him, his face buried into Felix’s bruised, bitten neck. Sylvain kissed Felix there and felt like he was the one being eaten alive.

And then they were laying on the floor, wrapped up in each other as they both caught their breath. “Holy shit,” said Sylvain with a shaky laugh. “We... probably should have negotiated that more beforehand.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Felix said, lifting a hand to Sylvain’s cheek. “You liked it too, right?”

“Yes,” Sylvain quickly reassured him. “I just—holy shit, Felix, that was _wild_.”

“Yeah, I know.” Felix bit his lip. “I… I think we need a safeword.”

Sylvain’s blood ran cold. “Oh no, did I—”

“No! You did everything right. I just—” Felix looked away like he was embarrassed. “I meant so you don’t have to worry. If we ever... do it again.”

Sylvain felt like he might pass away right then and there. “God, Felix, you’re going to kill me.”

Felix shot him a wry look. “And? Did I win the game?”

Some bizarre combinations of emotions washed over Sylvain. “I… I guess so? I mean, if you told the truth when you were supposed to and lied when you said you would…”

“I did.”

“Wow,” Sylvain said, dizzy from trying to process all the honesty Felix had given him. “I still think you should learn to say yes, though.”

“Okay, fair,” Felix laughed breathlessly.

Then a slow smile spread across Sylvain’s face. “Also, wow. I can’t believe you came in your pants.”

Felix’s face flamed. “Oh my god.” He pushed Sylvain off of him (for real this time) and stormed away to the bathroom, slamming the door. Sylvain heard the click of the lock.

“Aww, Felix, I’m sorry!” he said, laughing as he rose to his feet and failed to sound sorry at all. There was a stubborn silence from the bathroom. “I did too, you know,” Sylvain tried again.

“Well in that case,” Felix said, still sounding bitchy, “I’m about to take the longest shower of my life.”

Sylvain laughed as he heard the water turn on.

He went back to his room and stripped out of his dirty clothes but otherwise enjoyed his sweaty, sticky punishment, basking in the sweet satisfaction that came from giving someone exactly what they wanted.

Sylvain couldn’t resist a victory lap in the form of a text to Ingrid.

_would you like to hear something that will, uh_

_certainly elicit some sort of reaction from you?_

_god, when you say it like that, how can i resist?_

_cant wait to react to this thing_

_felix and i…._

_!!!! go on_

_may have… um_

_may have what??_

_omg youre killing me just say it!_

_well. hmmm_

_TELL ME!_

_hmm, should i?_

_DONT MAKE ME GET OUT MY GUN EMOJI_

_ok well. we may have…._

_made banana bread_

_…_

_sylvain. are you fucking kidding me._

_ok we may have kissed yesterday_

_OH HALLELUJAH!_

_FINALLY!!!!_

_hahaha my thoughts exactly_

_GOD, thats like a fucking RELIEF!_

_phew_

_hey sylvain do u have any champagne flutes?_

_no???_

_i don’t think so?? why???_

_because we are popping the BIGGEST bottles right now_

_lmao_

_literally you have Made my Day_

_wanna hear something that will make your day even better_

_yes?!?!_

_im so excited im a little scared_

_we may have,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,_

_done a bit more than kiss_

_WOW. called it_

_called it??_

_bro. lets be honest._

_how the hell would you guys stop after just kissing??_

_the belligerent sexual tension. it was just too much._

_lmao wanna hear something funny_

_oh my god the saga continues_

_yes tell me_

_we didn’t even start with the kissing_

_WHAT DOES THAT MEAN_

_sylvain im hy_

_sorry i hit enter too soon_

_im hyperventilating_

_oh no don’t do that_

_im like, utterly bamboozled as to the timeline of events here_

_lmao me too tbh_

_but im happy for you?! i think?!_

_i am NOT going to ask what you started with if not kissing_

_yeah,,,,, you don’t wanna know…_

_how many orgasms have occurred since…_

_oh my god fkdsjfhgksa_

_i have slept so little these past two days. and it is awesome_

_this one convo has put me through the whole spectrum of human emotion_

_hahahaha_

_like i said, you sure did have a reaction_

_i had like, at least 15 different reactions_

_you really did!_

_i cannot fucking WAIT to hear felix’s side of this_

_NO_

_DO NOT ASK HIM_

_wh_

_why_

_JUST DONT_

_ok i wont!! why tho_

_um. first of all it’s embarrassing that i told you_

_and second, i’m…not exactly sure…_

_what our relationship status is?_

_oh good god in heaven_

_did you guys talk things out or not??_

_well if i had to pick between those two options…_

_not._

_i would air on the side of not._

_ugh. of course._

_or rather, we didn’t finish talking things out before…_

_you know. dot dot dot._

_i appreciate the fade to black there_

_BUT! dude yall have gotta talk_

_i know_

_i am just…a miserable little man_

_fuck. i completely forgot that boys are never the ones who DTR_

_do you mean DTF?_

_bc i’m generally the one who’s DTF_

_no dum-dum, i did not mean “down to fuck”_

_DTR=define the relationship!!!_

_ohhhhh haha whoops_

_lol. but for real_

_if i thought i felt the full spectrum of human emotions before this…_

_then i was wrong. NOW ive really felt everything_

_panic, happiness, confusion, astral projection, etc etc_

_and now despair_

_i… feel like i am supposed to apologize._

_i apologize._

_no no it is ok... im just like. why must u both be like this_

_i cannot explain_

_but do u wanna hear one last thing_

_will it also catapult me into one of the stages of grief_

_no, i think it will warm your heart_

_ok fine. one last thing_

_felix made me scrambled eggs this morning :)_

Within 30 seconds, Ingrid sent back a screenshot of Antoni from Queer Eye which she had hastily modified to say, “A **SCARMBLED** **EGG** is something that can actually be so personal,”

_SCARMBLED_

_ok fine bitch, be like that!_

_i should have known you would say that >:(_

_lol that face_

_good luck finding another friend to send u personalized memes at a moment’s notice_

_nooo ingrid wait_

_come back_

_i can’t live without you_

_im glad ur aware of that_

_haha_

_but truly. goodbye_

_i need 5 hours minimum to recover from this whole conversation_

_again, sorry_

_farewell, my friend_

_and good luck_

After they had showered and eaten dinner that evening, they both changed into pajamas shockingly early. Sylvain knew why he was so eager to get into bed; he just wanted to make out with Felix again. But was Felix just unusually tired? Or did he also want to spend as much time as possible rolling around in bed together?

Sylvain returned from brushing his teeth to see Felix sitting on the edge of the bed and quickly braiding his hair. “Wait!”

Felix jolted in alarm. “What?! What is it?”

“Can I braid your hair?”

“Why?”

“Because—because I just like your hair,” Sylvain stammered. “Braided, I mean.” He felt his pulse accelerate with nerves.

“Oh. I mean, I like your hair too,” Felix responded, seeming a bit confused. “Nice haircut, by the way.”

“Thanks, my” — _boyfriend did it?_ — “cranky ex-roommate-cum-roommate again wanted an excuse to put blades near my neck,” Sylvain said, turning it into a joke.

Felix chuckled. “Well, I’m certainly not complaining if you want to braid it.” He scooted toward Sylvain, turning his back toward him and hugging his knees in to his chest. Sylvain almost asked to borrow an elastic before remembering there was already one on his wrist.

He braided Felix’s hair, wondering what they were going to do after this—were they just going to lay there until they fell asleep? It was only, like, 9pm. And Sylvain was pretty sure he was too wired to keep his eyes shut for long enough to even feign sleep. Or…did Felix want to have sex again?

“Sylvain,” Felix said, “do you want to have sex again?”

Well, okay. That was one way to find out.

“Because it helps you sleep?” Sylvain tied off the braid and moved to see Felix’s face.

Felix was cutely flustered. “Uh, yeah. I guess you know that about me now.”

“I want to if you want to,” Sylvain said, trying not to look too openly excited. “Is three times a day gonna be the—”

Felix abruptly turned and fell onto him, pushing him onto the mattress and kissing him on the mouth so sloppily that their teeth knocked together. But even that didn’t stop Sylvain from gasping in the pleasure of Felix wanting his attention again. He rolled them to lay more comfortably side by side as they kissed.

He shoved a hand between Felix’s legs, cupping him and rubbing him, slowly but firmly. Felix wasn’t hard yet, but it was a new kind of thrill to feel Felix’s cock stir against his hand. And oh, the sounds he made? Sylvain fucking loved that Felix was one of the noisiest partners he’d ever had, especially since Felix seemed to hate it.

The juxtaposition was excellent. Maybe Felix would learn how to stay quiet with more experience. But Sylvain hoped not.

Meanwhile, Felix’s hand kneaded and squeezed at his crotch—but only in fits and starts, like Felix kept losing concentration.

“It’s okay,” Sylvain said, “you can just concentrate on feeling good.”

“No, mmm” —Felix shuddered— “I wanna make _you_ feel good.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do,” Felix insisted.

“Felix. I _enjoy_ focusing on just you. I swear.”

“I—” Felix cut off with a gasp as Sylvain’s hand searched his back for the braid, tugging the ponytail holder off when he found it.

He kissed Felix again—and abruptly realized that Felix was biting his own bottom lip, not kissing back. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I think… I think I don’t want you to get me off again after all.”

Ouch. Sylvain tried not to take it personally, but it was hard not to. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just seriously want to focus on you this time. If you don’t want that, we don’t have to do anything tonight, but—”

“Yes,” Sylvain said. “I—please do.”

Then Felix rolled on top and was kissing him ravenously again, blanketing Sylvain with his body.

Sylvain’s head swam at the notion of Felix wanting _him_ rather than just wanting what he could provide, and that did equally as much for him as Felix’s hand on his cock did. Sylvain was already fully hard—he’d always been easy to turn on, but hard to please. And it had always made sense that he would be a little dysfunctional—

At least he’d thought it did, until suddenly he was apparently the easiest person in the world to please. Freshly deflowered Felix had the uncanny ability to take him apart in minutes.

Sylvain came in his hand, crying out like a virgin.

Afterwards, Felix lay back down beside him and watched his face searchingly. “So, were you purposefully making more work for yourself?”

“Huh?”

“The braid? You undid it. Now you’ll have to do it again.”

Sylvain smiled as the words sank in. “You did say practice makes perfect.” He sat up and prodded Felix to do the same.

Felix rolled his eyes at the inconvenience. “I’m pretty sure you’ve already mastered it. It’s not that complicated.”

Sylvain playfully demanded, “Teach me another one, then!” He finished the braid. It was even better than the last one, if you asked him.

“Maybe tomorrow.” Felix yawned and lay back down. “I’m tired.”

That presented Sylvain with a dilemma.

Last night, the first night that they’d slept together—in this new way, cuddling after sex—Sylvain hadn’t been able to stop kissing Felix. He’d settled for kissing his face over and over, and it seemed to relax Felix a little bit more with each kiss as his breathing slowed. Felix had quickly fallen asleep, and Sylvain had felt like his heart might burst from the sheer love that filled up like a balloon in his chest. He’d closed his eyes and rode the feeling, letting it buoy him up. He hadn’t let himself think about how this was all temporary. He had just wanted to hold onto Felix for as long as he could.

But then he’d remembered the feeling that had haunted him for the past year, remembered the time he’d spent believing he’d accidentally taken advantage of Felix.

He’d lain there in the dark, thinking and overthinking, and then thinking again about whether it was really overthinking or just the right amount of thinking. Maybe Felix _hadn’t_ wanted to be cuddled to sleep. Maybe Felix had just been too tired to say anything. After all, hadn’t Felix said that this whole thing was to help him fall asleep? What if it had worked a little _too_ well last night and he’d just…passed out in Sylvain’s arms by accident?

So Sylvain had released Felix, because there were some boundaries he just couldn’t cross. He’d lain awake because of the alcohol for long enough to question the decision.

So tonight, he decided to follow Felix’s lead and just ask. “Do you want to… cuddle?”

“I mean, sure,” Felix responded. Sylvain could physically feel the words fanning the ember of hope in his chest. “There’s no reason we shouldn’t,” Felix added. “Why? Do you want to cuddle?”

Was that… reluctance in Felix’s voice? Did he wish there was a reason for them _not_ to cuddle? Maybe it had been wise of Sylvain to not presume anything the night before. Goodbye, little spark of hope.

“I just… yeah, a little bit,” Sylvain said helplessly. “Just after sex. It just… feels nice?”

“Okay,” Felix obliged him. Felix wiggled closer and wrapped him up in the sweetest hug, tucking his head under Sylvain’s chin. “I–I think this might help me sleep, too,” Felix said, sounding awkward. “Sorry I run cold.”

“Good thing I run hot, then.” Sylvain draped an arm over Felix in return, and then felt guilty again, because if he turned off his brain he could easily imagine that Felix wasn’t just humoring him.

But Felix was. Felix was only cuddling him because he had just turned cuddling into a condition of having sex with him. Oh god, what had he done?

Sylvain waited until Felix fell asleep to extricate himself from Felix’s arms. From the generous and terrible parody of what he really wanted.

_May 11, 2020 at 11:41 PM_

_since you’ve come back into my life, i keep thinking, “i’m happy. i’m so happy,” and i can't tell whether i’m doing it on purpose or not. i’m allowed to be happy now, even if i know it will hurt me more later, right?_

_but how foolish am i for enjoying your cruel words? and how selfish, for still secretly wanting to hear loving words too?_

_sometimes when i kiss you, i want to know that it means something to you. and i know that i’m out of my mind. i know it probably doesn’t. but i want you so much that i keep kissing you anyway. maybe this time, i think as we kiss. maybe this time, i think as i come in your hands._

_soon, i think as i sweat in the sheets. soon, it will be too warm for my long-sleeved pajamas. i want to see you in my summer pajamas too._

_i’ll give you every piece of me, whatever you want. so how can i complain, when you ask for my lips and my fingers but not my heart?_

_maybe the real solution is that i should keep that part of me to myself. but it is so hard to contain. my heart is a terrible beast. why else would i love you so uncontrollably? i’ll tear myself apart for loving you. i’ll take my heart to the blender and make blood._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for explicit sexual content and consent issues (but on purpose this time?). And a part that could be read as implied choking?
> 
> If you know me irl, perhaps read from "victory lap in the form of a text" to “I want to if you want to”?? Or whenever you start feeling uncomfortable I guess haha
> 
> Tbh I have kinda lost track of my release schedule but this chapter is being released in celebration of a certain world leader being in the hopsital :) 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and commenting <3


	25. demons and dress up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday, May 12th. For once, Sylvain finds himself as the less shameless one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings in the end notes! If you know me in real life, please just skip this chapter.

Ever since they had started sleeping together, Felix’s behavior had done a 180. Well, except for the embarrassment.

It was like Felix’s repression had suddenly evaporated and left behind all the distilled sexual appetite that had been bottled up—at least, that was the only explanation Sylvain could think of for why all of Felix’s coldness and shoving him away had turned into warmth and constant teasing.

Either that, or Felix was just super duper touch-starved and had suddenly realized he was allowed to touch Sylvain. Felix sure acted like it. He took every opportunity to smush his body into Sylvain’s—sidling right up to him on the couch so their thighs pressed together, cornering him against any possible surface and nuzzling his face against Sylvain’s neck…

Sylvain wasn’t sure if Felix even noticed how much he was doing it. And god help him, Sylvain did not have enough self-control to turn down most of the advances, or even avoid escalating them. Kissing Felix was habit-forming.

Habit-forming for both of them, it seemed. It was like Felix just wasn’t satisfied anymore unless he was on his back, or his stomach, or pinned to a wall being kissed. Or unless he had Sylvain in one of the above positions.

Yet the shame never fully left Felix. Sylvain still caught flashes of flustered anguish in the way that Felix squeezed his eyes shut or bit down on his bottom lip, frustration in the way his face would flush before Sylvain even touched him. (Sylvain had even invented a new word for it: flustration.)

And he had to admit, it was a little intoxicating, the power it gave him over Felix, even if he never exploited it for anything more than just the cute look of indignant mortification on Felix’s face.

The day began when Sylvain woke up and decided, for the sake of being devilish, that Felix needed to wake up too.

Sylvain lazily batted at him with one arm. “Feeeeliiiix,” he whined, “wake up…”

Felix groaned, already grumpy at having his narrow window for sleep cut short. “Ugh… why the fuck are you waking me up?”

“I… need your help with something.”

“Well it’s not like I’ll be able to go back to sleep now…” Despite Felix’s obvious annoyance, he scooted closer to where Sylvain lay on his back, hiking a leg up to lay across Sylvain’s thighs and draping an arm over Sylvain’s chest. “What is it?”

“I need…” Sylvain wheezed dramatically as if he were on his deathbed. “I…”

“Spit it out already!”

“I need… to drink… some life juice. Will you make me some?”

Felix smacked him on the arm.

“Ow! Hey!”

“Well what the fuck did you expect?” Felix said, eyebrow twitching in irritation.

“Um, a cup of coffee? What did you think I was—oh. Haha. ‘Life juice.’ Very funny. Who knew you had such a dirty mind—”

Felix smacked him again before rolling out of bed. (By climbing _over_ Sylvain, of course. Like, who did that? And why?)

“Fine,” Felix said, nose scrunched up in irritation. “Anything to eat with it?”

“Your ass when you get back—”

Felix pulled the pillow out from under Sylvain’s head to whack him with it. “Here I am, trying to be nice to you—”

“Okay, okay! How about a kiss before you go?”

Felix immediately looked mortified. “Fine,” he grumbled. He gave Sylvain a quick but intense kiss before going to make him coffee, blushing furiously the whole time. And then he came back with the cup of coffee and made out with Sylvain until it went cold.

The shame never fully left Felix, until later that day when he offered to mend a tear in Sylvain’s shirt.

It was after lunch while Sylvain was playing video games on the couch that Felix came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He went to kiss Sylvain’s neck, then suddenly stopped. “What’s with the hole?”

What’s with the hole, indeed? “What hole?”

“This hole.” Felix’s finger poked him in the back of the shoulder. Sylvain felt Felix’s nail dig directly into his skin where there should have been fabric between them. The seam where his sleeve met the rest of the shirt must have split. “Do you have a sewing kit? I could fix it real quick.”

“Ooh, really? I have a jacket with a hole in it too,” Sylvain said, meaning it as a joke.

But Felix said, “Fine. Needle and thread?”

Felix trailed him to the bedroom, where Sylvain dug out a tiny sewing kit he’d never used. “Thank you,” he said meekly, handing it over to Felix. “You don’t really have to fix the jacket, though. That was a joke.”

“I already told you, it’s no problem,” Felix grumbled. It took Sylvain a second to absorb that Felix was _insisting_ on fixing it, though his tone would have been better suited to the words “fuck off” or “mend your own damn clothes”.

“Okay, have it your way.” Sylvain flopped back on the bed with his phone. “It’s in the closet.”

Sylvain had only pointlessly refreshed his email twice when Felix said, “This one?” holding up a denim jacket.

“No. Why? Does that one have a hole too?”

“Oh, no. I don’t think so.” Felix continued going through the closet. “This one?” he asked, pulling out a blue blazer. He took it off the hanger, jokingly trying it on.

“Haha, very funny,” Sylvain said sarcastically. Felix was clearly making fun of him, but with the sleeves too long over his hands, it took effort for Sylvain to pretend to not enjoy the sight.

“This one?” Felix tried on Sylvain’s old varsity jacket from high school ice hockey. He turned around, purposefully posing to show the “GAUTIER” emblazoned across the back. “How do I look?”

 _Adorable._ “Boo!” Sylvain heckled him. “Your butt sucks!”

“Oh, boo you, whore. Don’t you talk to me with your perpendicular-to-the-floor ass.”

“That’s demonstrably false, and you know it.”

Felix hung the jacket back on the hanger and reached back into the closet. “What’s in the box?” Felix had it open before Sylvain even had a chance to stop him. Felix’s eyes widened.

Sylvain didn’t need to look to remember what was in the box: Two sets of lingerie, one in black and one in purple. The bras were soft, sheer and lacy, with wide straps and no cups or wire. Sylvain had never planned to let anyone else see them—

But if he was going to share them with anyone, it would be Felix.

Felix held one up for inspection. It was more of a bralette than a bra, really, though the style of the straps was reminiscent of a harness. That was part of what had made Sylvain buy them in the first place. The two triangles that made up the bikini-like top were completely flat, with little keyhole slits down the middle of each triangle that stared at Sylvain like vertically-oriented eyes.

“Oh my god, Sylvain,” said Felix, looking like he was holding in either a laugh or a mouthful of word-vomit. “I didn’t know it was possible for a blabbermouth like you to have secrets! Please, go ahead and tell me some lie about these belonging to a sister I know you don’t have. It’ll be even funnier that way.”

“Actually, those belonged to one of my exes.”

That wiped the smirk off of Felix’s face.

“Just kidding,” Sylvain quickly added, “they’re mine. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Damn. It’s not as funny if you own up to it right away,” Felix said, although it seemed his mirth was only slightly dampened.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Though he managed to sound nonchalant, Sylvain felt a rare flush warm the back of his neck. The fact that Felix found this _funny_ made it even more embarrassing than if Felix had been disgusted or disinterested.

But Felix wasn’t done mocking him yet. Still looking fascinated, Felix dropped the bralette back in the box and said, “So. You’re not just a whore, you’re a _kinky_ little whore.”

“What’s kinky about a little lingerie?”

“Uh, the crossdressing aspect?” Felix fished out a pair of underwear and dangled it from one finger as if it might bite him in retaliation if he held it too tightly.

“I’m not dressing up as a girl, though,” Sylvain pointed out. “I’m dressing up as me, but in a cute bra.”

“Do you even hear yourself? That’s not very gender-conforming of you.”

“Says the guy who braids his hair before bed.”

“Hmm.” Felix dropped the underwear back in the box and tossed the box onto the bed. Then he reached down to the closet floor and pulled out a pair of shoes—oh fuck, Sylvain had forgotten those were in there.

 _The fuck me pumps_. Sylvain could feel his ears burn as his name for them sprang into his head.

They could best be described black stilettos, though they were truthfully only an inch or two taller than kitten heels. Sylvain couldn’t tear his eyes away as they swung accusingly in Felix’s grasp. He sincerely hoped Felix was not psychic, because his mind chanting _fuck me pumps_ over and over.

“Okay, seriously, what’s the appeal of _these_?” Felix asked.

Sylvain shrugged, trying not to give away how mesmerized he was by the sight of them hanging by the ankle straps around Felix’s finger. “They make your legs and ass look good,” he said, hoping matter-of-factness would save him from feeling self-conscious.

Felix’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Okay, what about the bra and panties, then?”

Hearing the word “panties” out of Felix’s mouth kind of made Sylvain feel like he might pass away. “They make your ass and tits look good,” he said flatly.

Felix laughed and said, “Whose tits? Yours?” He stared pointedly at Sylvain’s chest (or lack thereof) as if seeing right through his shirt. Sylvain’s skin warmed as if Felix’s gaze was tangibly stroking his chest.

“I have it on good authority that tits is a gender neutral term,” said Sylvain, a defensive note seeping into his voice. “And seriously, it’s not a gendered thing.”

“Sure it isn’t.”

“It’s not! It’s about—like, wearing something that’s specifically for sex,” Sylvain insisted, trying to sound composed. “I mean, plenty of people have seen me naked for reasons unrelated to sex. Because nudity isn’t inherently sexual. But wearing lingerie is like, I don’t know—”

Felix let him ramble on. Looking amused, haughty, and thoroughly unconvinced.

“Isn’t that what sex is about?” Sylvain asked, increasingly agitated. “Making yourself vulnerable? Letting someone see you in a way no one has seen you before? Sex is always about power, and control, and giving them away. It’s like, trust. And stuff.” Sylvain knew he was making a fool of himself, yet he just couldn’t figure out how to stop.

“Who did you use these with, anyway?” Felix asked, his tone casual as he set the pair of heels down on the ground.

Sylvain blurted, “Who says I had to use them _with_ anyone?”

Shit.

Felix’s eyes narrowed suggestively, flicking between Sylvain’s face and the box on the bed. “Shall we christen them together, then?”

Sylvain blustered, “I—I mean, I’m obviously not against the idea, but it seems like you are, so—”

“I’m not against the idea. Maybe I like the idea of ‘seeing you in a way no one else has seen you before,’ as you said.” The look Felix gave him was searingly hot.

Who knew Felix could do bedroom eyes? Spending time around Sylvain must have rubbed off on him. And that vicious smolder, combined with Felix’s natural cutting apathy… it was too much power for one human to be trusted with.

With his eyes half-lidded, Felix cocked an eyebrow and continued, “Maybe I want to see proof that you get off on this.”

Sylvain scoffed. “I didn’t say I get off on it—”

“You said they’re specifically for sex. Therefore, yes, you do.”

“Wh— _therefore_? Fuck you for using ‘logic _’_ and ‘evidence’ against me like this. I mean, I—what I meant is that—yeah, it makes you feel vulnerable, but you can _enjoy_ it.”

“We already know you’re turned on by everything, so just admit that you enjoy being humiliated, too,” Felix said.

Well, that hadn’t been Sylvain’s point. But Sylvain didn’t contradict him. “Are you trying to kinkshame me? It won’t work. Kinkshaming is my kink.”

“Great. Works for both of us, then.” With that, Felix took a daring step closer, and Sylvain realized anew what a monster he had unleashed. Sexless, repressed Felix had been hard enough to handle, but newly liberated sex-demon Felix was going to be the death of him. “After all, you torment me constantly,” Felix said. “You think I’m going to give up a chance to embarrass you?”

Sylvain honestly had no response to that.

“So.” Felix put his free hand on Sylvain’s chest. “If you like when I bully you, does that mean you’re getting off on this already?”

“No, I’m—”

“Whore.” Felix’s hand teasingly traced the lines of his torso through his shirt, drawing a shiver out of him. “I should have known, since you like being called names. How long has _that_ been going on, by the way? Did you used to get hot and bothered every time I called you a slut while we were roommates?”

“No—” (But he sure as hell would now.)

Felix seemed delighted by his own newfound power. “You love this, don’t you?” he asked in a husky, confident voice Sylvain had never heard from him before. Sylvain again prayed that Felix wasn’t psychic, because now his mind was responding, _yes, Felix, I love this. Ask me again and I’ll tell you how much._

Felix’s eyes swept over him and landed on his crotch, where he was already sporting a noticeable semi. Felix seemed equal parts disgusted and thrilled with the response. “Oh my god, is this really doing it for you?” he sneered.

“Fuck, sorry—” Sylvain’s hands darted between his legs, as though it made any difference.

“I’m not asking you to be sorry, I’m asking if you want to put these on for me.” Felix shoved the box of lingerie into his hands and crossed his arms expectantly. “Well?”

Sylvain undressed, feeling the hot prickly flush climb further up the back of his neck. It was demeaning, no doubt about it, but Sylvain did like being bullied. The fact that Felix was unmoving and fully-clothed while watching him strip only added to the humiliation factor.

He plucked one of the underwear sets out of the box, wondering for the life of him what he was trying to prove by going through with this. He pulled on the black pair of panties, followed by the bralette, feeling clumsy and doughy and bulky in contrast to the skimpy, silky delicacy of the lace. Just as he’d said it would, the resulting presentation left him feeling even more exposed than being naked had.

“Wow,” Felix said cruelly as he gave Sylvain a showy head-to-toe appraisal. “Sure looks girly to me.”

To make matters worse, Sylvain was already most of the way to full-mast, and the lacy underwear only seemed to emphasize it. And most horrendously of all, he still couldn’t take his eyes off the shoes. The pumps called to him from the floor next to Felix.

And maybe Felix _could_ read his mind, because Felix chose that moment to say, “Don’t forget the shoes.” He watched as Sylvain stepped into them and buckled the straps around his ankles. They took effect immediately. Sylvain was already mentally begging for Felix to fuck him _._

Felix took a step toward him. “So what is all this?” he teased. “You got tired of fucking girls and decided you’d try dressing as one? Did you buy all of this as a first step toward getting some cock in your mouth?”

Sylvain whimpered and turned his face away, his whole body burning with shame—but he didn’t contradict him.

Felix cleared the rest of the space between them and leaned into Sylvain’s personal bubble. Sylvain looked down at him, making defiant eye contact. “You don’t even care whose cock it is, do you?” Felix asked. “You’d let anyone dick you down.” That part wasn’t true, but some unknown force had sealed Sylvain’s lips shut. Sylvain didn’t contradict him. “That’s okay,” said Felix. “I’ll do it.”

Despite their height difference being exacerbated by the heels, Felix seemed to tower over Sylvain in every way but physical. The force of his words and gaze pushed Sylvain backwards until the backs of Sylvain’s knees hit the bed. He abruptly stumbled into sitting on the mattress, and then Felix really did loom over him.

Felix placed all five fingertips of one hand on the center of Sylvain’s chest, on the bare part that was framed by the bra straps. “Slut,” he said, leaning down viciously close to Sylvain’s face, close enough for Sylvain to feel his breath on his lips.

Then Felix put pressure into his fingertips and pushed Sylvain to lie back on the bed. Sylvain scooted backward, and Felix followed, tethered by the hand on Sylvain’s chest. Felix waded onto the bed on his knees and pushed one of Sylvain’s knees to the side to open his legs, easing himself between them.

“Hands over your head.” Sylvain obeyed without question. Felix’s other hand found its way to his crotch, and his breath hitched at the touch. He tried to rock his hips into Felix’s hand, but Felix pulled it away and scolded, “Stay still for me.”

Stunned, Sylvain nodded, and Felix put his hand lightly on his cock again. Not palming it or groping it, just resting on it. Felix leaned back a bit, putting some distance between their faces. He studied Sylvain carefully.

Sylvain realized what Felix was about to do a mere second before he did it.

“Whore,” said Felix without any inflection at all. He was testing him.

Sylvain could have sworn he could feel his heartbeat in his perineum. He twisted his hands in the duvet to ground himself and turned his face away, unable to watch without his face burning. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the darkness only made Felix’s voice that much more penetrating and all-consuming.

“Slut,” Felix said, sending shivers down Sylvain’s spine. Felix took advantage of Sylvain’s turned head by mouthing at his ear, murmuring, “So needy,” his tongue and voice fucking right into Sylvain’s head. It left Sylvain breathless.

Sylvain fidgeted, but Felix pulled back and harshly commanded, “ _Behave_.”

For some reason, that was fucking music to Sylvain’s ears. He could feel himself blush hard as he moaned shamelessly through parted lips. He tried to hold still even as he trembled uncontrollably, like his body was set to fucking vibrate.

“Bitch,” Felix said. He paused, waiting for a reaction.

Then Felix leaned in closer again and the intensity slipped back into his voice, like he couldn’t pretend to not mean the things he was saying. “Baby,” he said.

Sylvain’s spine arched on pure instinct, his dick twitching against Felix’s hand. Felix seemed to take it as insubordination. He pressed down with the hand on Sylvain’s chest and growled, “ _Settle_.”

“ _Oh_ —” Sylvain’s body went limp at the command, helplessly compliant. With a broken sound, he let Felix’s hand pin his back flat on the bedspread, motionless except for the heaving of his chest.

“Good boy,” Felix purred. Did Felix say it to praise him for his obedience, or to test him for his reaction? Sylvain moaned either way.

“Good _girl_ ,” Felix said. With a gasp, Sylvain’s dick throbbed against Felix’s hand and his eyes flew open. Felix was watching his face ravenously. He leaned closer and said, “Kitten.” Sylvain mewled like one.

He cringed internally, but Felix’s hand cupped him a bit tighter as a reward, and suddenly Sylvain loved that he was capable of making such a sound.

Felix continued, speaking slowly, giving each word weight, letting each one sink in. “Cunt. Princess. Beautiful.” The onslaught of combined worship and abuse turned Sylvain into raspberry jello, brain and body alike.

“Pretty boy,” Felix went on, gaining momentum. “Babydoll. Cocksucker. Filthy animal.” In a reverent whisper, he added, “Can you imagine if your father saw you looking like this?”

And then it was all clear to Sylvain. Felix was redirecting all of his own shame by inflicting it on _him_ —and he reveled in it. He could take it. He panted hard and simply responded, “Felix.” It felt so good that he said it again. “Ah—Felix, Felix.”

Felix was watching him hungrily, saying, “Angel. Cumslut. Gorgeous.”

It was like a feedback loop for Sylvain, because his brain kept making it worse, prefixing each name with the word “my”— _my pretty boy, my cocksucker, my baby, my good girl—_ driving himself crazy—

And suggesting names of its own: _My heart. My treasure. My love._ Sylvain could almost hear them in Felix’s voice. His own thoughts wounded him, slicing into him deliciously deep. Sylvain panted and tried to hide his mouth with the back of a hand. “You really love this, huh?” Felix said. “You dirty little queer.”

Sylvain instantly flinched. “No. Too much. Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, I won’t,” Felix said quickly. “I won’t.”

The hand on Sylvain’s chest petted soothingly up the side of his neck and into his hair. Sylvain took a deep, shuddering breath as Felix’s fingers traced around his ear, along his jaw, and then moved reassuringly back to the center of his chest. His palm came to rest over Sylvain’s pounding heart. “Should I stop?” Felix asked quietly.

Sylvain fixed him with the most fiery look he could muster. “Don’t you dare.”

Finally, Felix gave up the pretense of testing him and began lightly stroking him through the lace panties. “Baby,” Felix breathed, his voice heavy with some unknown emotion. The word poured over Sylvain like cool water.

“Baby,” Felix said again, cooing the word at Sylvain in a low voice. It earned him a buck of Sylvain’s hips into his hand.

“Baby.” The word made Sylvain crazy—the pet name, the kindness in Felix’s voice, the maddening, featherlight touch on his cock as he mindlessly rubbed into it—

“God, you’re fucking insatiable,” Felix said, snapping back into character. “All it takes is calling you ‘baby’ to turn you into a desperate bitch in heat, huh?” His nimble fingers caressed Sylvain’s shaft with more delicacy than Sylvain could believe.

Sylvain moaned and managed to pant out, “I thought you… said you didn’t know how to dirty talk.” He dared to look Felix in the eyes again.

“It’s bold of you to talk back to me when I have your cock in my hand,” Felix retorted. He squeezed it for emphasis, eliciting another tortured gasp from Sylvain. “You like this, right?” Felix asked in the same aloof, commanding voice as before, but Sylvain could tell he was really checking that he hadn’t gone too far. He nodded eagerly in response.

“Say it, then,” Felix urged him. “If you like this, say it.”

“I like this.” Sylvain’s head was spinning too fast for him to _not_ say it.

The responding intensity in Felix’s eyes told him that Felix was enjoying subjugating him as much as Sylvain enjoyed being subjugated. “What do you like about it?” Felix prompted.

“I like—your voice. Your hands. I like how you mess with me. I like letting you do whatever you want to me. Letting you have me.” Sylvain’s own honesty stunned him.

“Hmm.” Felix removed the hand from his cock, and Sylvain was dying to know what he had said wrong. “I thought maybe you liked wearing girly underwear and being told what to do.”

“That too,” Sylvain admitted.

Felix’s hand moved to slowly ghosting the surfaces of his smooth fingernails over Sylvain’s chest. “You’re right about one thing, though. This _does_ make your tits look cute.” Fuck, if Sylvain had known all it took was a little lingerie to get Felix saying “tits” and “cumslut” and “panties,” he would have worn lace every day for the past three years.

Felix’s hand drifted toward where the round tips of Sylvain’s nipples poked teasingly though the slits in the triangles of lace. “Can I touch them? Kiss them?” Felix glanced at him and whispered like he thought he wasn’t supposed to be asking.

“Yes,” Sylvain breathed, melting with sheer affection. As Sylvain looked down at his own chest, the imagery of it seemed incredibly dirty, each little pink nub emerging from between the scalloped black folds. Felix laid his hands overtop of them, squeezing Sylvain’s tits through the lace.

Though Sylvain did work out, his chest was still fairly flat, which didn’t provide much for Felix to grip. But Felix seemed unbothered. His gaze remained transfixed on where his fingers dug into the flesh of Sylvain’s pec as if he feared he would never get to see this again, and Sylvain was overwhelmed with feeling.

He had never thought Felix would want to see this side of him—the side that wanted desperately to be wanted and messed with and taken care of and accepted—but of course he did. Felix was the one person who really saw him, through and through.

Sylvain felt Felix’s fingertips press almost painfully against the bones of his ribcage through his skin, like they were scrabbling to get inside. Sylvain gasped, and Felix looked up at his face, assessing his reaction. “God, you look _wrecked_.” Felix said with a wolfish grin, spitting it like profanity. Sylvain felt wrecked too.

With a slow exhale, Felix pushed his pecs together, creating a shallow crease of cleavage in the center of his chest. Sylvain felt more of his coherent thought slip away.

“I need—I need—” _More of you,_ Sylvain tried to say, but he was too deep into subspace to even speak properly. He needed Felix’s touch on his feverish skin. He was burning so hot that he thought he might burn Felix’s lips if they touched him. “Please, Felix—” _Kiss me and find out._

As if hearing his thoughts, Felix pulled the left side of the bralette aside with a crooked finger and lowered his mouth to Sylvain’s nipple. Sylvain melted into the mattress with a groan when Felix’s lips finally made contact with his skin.

While he sucked at Sylvain’s chest, Felix planted one elbow into the mattress next to him, leaning his weight onto it. His hand lazily tweaked the nipple not currently being taken care of by his mouth as it peeked out from the lacy slit of the bralette. He alternated between rolling the tip between his fingers and kneading at Sylvain’s chest with his whole hand.

As Sylvain had known it would, having his nipple tweaked through the lace felt more perverse than wearing nothing at all. He kinda wished Felix would just suck him through the slit for the visual alone—

His wish came true. Felix switched his lips from one nipple to the other, replacing all the sharp sensations from his fingers with the soft suckling of his mouth. Sylvain cried out, deaf to the constant flow of sounds escaping him.

Felix kept messing with his chest, letting his panting and squirming escalate with each lick, each suck, each nip of teeth, until finally Sylvain whined, “Felix, please!”

Felix stopped entirely. He pulled back from Sylvain’s chest to stare down at him, face flushed and breathing ragged. Then the hazy look in Felix’s eyes sharpened. “Whore,” he said, like it was a reminder _._ As if Sylvain had forgotten how bad he wanted this.

Sylvain could only whimper as his cock throbbed against Felix where he lay between his spread legs. The scrape of denim against Sylvain’s bare legs made him feel fragile in a way that left him trembling. The fact that Felix was _still_ fully clothed only reinforced the power imbalance between them. “Felix—”

“What do you want, _baby_?” Felix asked, voice dripping with combined heat and contempt.

Felix’s hand massaged between his legs, and Sylvain couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed as he begged, “Anything, _please_ Felix, I just need you. I don’t care how. Please. _Please_.”

Felix finally relented. But instead of pulling the underwear down, Felix just pulled the gusset to one side to stroke teasingly along Sylvain’s cock with one finger. It seemed Felix was coming to appreciate the appeal of fucking him in lingerie after all. Felix’s finger came away wet.

Then it trailed down the lace to his asshole. “God,” said Felix, sounding choked up, “I want to cut a hole in these and fuck you through them.” Sylvain nearly cried, a wave of confusing desire sweeping through him.

Felix felt up his bare asscheek and then his balls, holding them in his cupped hand before returning to Sylvain’s cock and taking in his fist. “How do you want it, beautiful? Do you want me to pamper you? Spoil you?” Felix murmured, voice low, velvety, syrupy—oh, Sylvain loved his voice so much.

Then the sweetness dropped off into bitterness, like Felix had changed his mind about how willing he was to do Sylvain a favor. “Or should I just jerk you off like the worthless slut you are?”

Sylvain whined incoherently, words failing him until he finally got out, “Either, both—I don’t know! Please, Felix, whatever you think I deserve, whatever you want to give—”

Felix shimmied the rest of the way down his body, still holding his cock in one hand as his face drew even with Sylvain’s crotch. He lowered his mouth to flick at the tip with his tongue. “Ah! Felix,” Sylvain hurriedly stammered, “are you sure y-you—holy shit—”

Felix ignored him, tonguing the slit experimentally before taking the tip between his lips. He didn’t take it very deep, always keeping one hand wrapped around the base, but he licked and sucked on the first few inches like Sylvain was a fucking popsicle.

There was something grotesque and freakish about having his cock between Felix’s teeth, like he couldn’t quite believe that Felix would rather please him than hurt him, or that Felix wouldn’t bite down at any moment like a feral animal. Having Felix suck him off felt dangerous and stupid and recklessly erotic, like asking a vampire to kiss his neck and not to leave any marks.

And it was absolutely worth throwing caution to the wind for. It was _exhilarating_ —Felix’s teeth even scraped his shaft once. Sylvain was pretty sure it was an accident since it didn’t happen again, but the risk and excitement twined parasitically together inside him.

And he trusted Felix too much for anything to truly scare him anyway.

“Fuck, Felix, you’re so cute, I want you so bad,” he babbled desperately. “You feel amazing, look so fucking good like this—” Felix moaned around his cock.

Felix then pulled off with a soft _pop_ , leaving his cock slick with saliva and cool without a wet mouth providing the warmth around him. Felix licked up the underside of his cock, his tongue spread flat and wide with the tip pointing down at his chin as his mouth hung open.

He licked all the way up, and then engulfed the tip between his lips again, hiding that beautiful tongue. And though Sylvain couldn’t see it, he could still feel it swirl against him, leaving him to only imagine what it was doing inside Felix’s mouth to make him feel so good.

Then Felix rubbed his asshole with the knuckle of a curled finger through the thong-like strip of lace between his cheeks, and the stretchy, soft lace felt so much more intense and detailed there, starchy and coarse as it ground against his sensitive rim. Sylvain had no fucking clue how Felix had known to do it, but it made him burn and clench and moan and jerk his hips, accidentally shoving his cock deeper into Felix’s mouth. “Fuck! Sorry—oh—” Felix hummed and petted his thigh.

Sylvain came unexpectedly, the tingling orgasm washing over him before he even knew it was close. He spilled helplessly into Felix’s mouth, right onto his tongue, gasping, “Ah, coming!” like an inexperienced teenager. Felix’s warm brown eyes looked sharply up to meet his. He swallowed repeatedly and kept sucking Sylvain’s pulsating cock through each spurt of his orgasm. “Felix, Felix, Felix—”

As he drained Sylvain’s balls dry of every drop he could get, he looked up at Sylvain with those stunningly vibrant eyes like he was fucking _grateful,_ like he wanted to live off of Sylvain’s come alone. Jesus Christ, that look could fuel Sylvain’s fantasies for years. Sylvain realized he had misjudged. Felix wasn’t feral with his cock. He was docile for it.

When Sylvain gave one final shudder and went limp, feeling dazed, Felix pulled off of him faster than his sluggish brain could process and climbed back on top of him, straddling his hips and scooting up so far that he was almost sitting on Sylvain’s stomach.

Felix unzipped his fly and yanked out his cock, which appeared at once both monstrous and cute, foreshortened by Sylvain’s vantage point to look savagely large, but softly pink, like it was blushing along with the rest of Felix’s body. Sylvain started to reach out to grasp it, but Felix batted his hand away.

“Let me, okay?” he said, his voice cutely raspy. Sylvain nodded, still dazed, and started to place his hands on Felix’s hips before Felix ordered him, “Hands above your head.”

Fuck, what a brilliant idea. Sylvain reached his arms back and gripped fistfuls of the pillow under his head, dimly wishing he had a headboard just for this situation. Or maybe bedposts, for this situation and some additional ones involving ropes, handcuffs, or fucking plastic zip-ties. He would agree to _anything_.

He watched Felix jerk himself off. Felix rocked slightly on his hips, his eyes roaming Sylvain’s face and body the whole time. Sylvain’s body responded with a wash of heat in his core when Felix made eye contact with him, and then another when Felix’s eyes flitted up to where his hands were gripping the pillow.

Sylvain could only imagine what he must look like to have Felix panting like this, like Sylvain just laying there all fucked-out beneath him was the hottest porn he had ever seen. Sylvain felt like he could probably get off again on just the way that Felix watched him. Then Felix murmured, “You look so pretty, Sylvain,” and he nearly whited out from the pleasure of it.

At some point between fantasizing about the come Felix was going to paint his chest with and considering whether to tell Felix to just fuck his face, inspiration struck. Sylvain dragged one of the hands above his head slowly downward, never breaking eye contact with Felix.

“I said to put your hands—” Felix gasped as Sylvain slid two fingers into his own mouth, spreading them so he could lick between them, poking his tongue out just enough to show Felix that he was licking along the sides of his fingers as he sucked on them. Let Felix imagine _that_ on his cock.

Felix groaned and rubbed himself against Sylvain’s abs, cock sliding on his skin and combined precome and sweat. “Will it ruin the lace if I come on it?”

“I don’t care. Go on and ruin me.” Sylvain didn’t process what he’d just said until Felix was already spattering his chest with warm, sticky come that started to cool on his skin within seconds.

Felix moved off of him, and for a moment Sylvain thought he would get up from the bed and leave him like this to sort himself out, which would be its own special form of humiliation.

But Felix settled to sit between his spread legs. He bent forward, placing a soft kiss on Sylvain’s stomach and lapping at the come on his chest like a kitten lapping up milk. Sylvain’s heart clenched at the sight. How could something so filthy feel so sweet?

“By the way,” Felix whispered, “you _are_ beautiful, you know.” And when Felix looked up to meet his eyes, there was no more shame in his expression, like he had made peace with something previously unknown.

And when Sylvain looked back and whispered, “You’re beautiful, too,” well…

Oh. Sylvain realized some weight had been lifted from his shoulders, too. As he emerged from the mental subspace he had occupied, he realized that at one point, for a moment, his mind had been quiet.

Huh. Felix might not have been the only one working out some things.

Felix moved his attention lower and darted his tongue into Sylvain’s bellybutton, causing him to yelp at the unexpected sensation and promptly lose whatever tattered shreds of dignity he had left. Felix shot him a little smile, then gently lifted one of Sylvain’s legs, placing it against his shoulder.

He held Sylvain’s leg still, with one hand supporting the back of his calf so that his foot pointed straight up into the air. Then he turned his head to start kissing his way up the inside of Sylvain’s thigh.

He snaked a path with his mouth from Sylvain’s inner thigh to the soft skin at the back of his knee, and then along his shin to his ankle. There, he reached up to unbuckle the ankle strap of the heeled shoe and kept peppering kisses onto his ankle bone as he slid the shoe off his foot.

“Uh, Felix?” Not that he wasn’t loving the attention, but—

“Yes?” Another quick butterfly kiss near his achilles tendon.

“What are you doing?”

Felix looked up at him like it should have been obvious. “Um, aftercare?”

If there was any part of Sylvain that hadn’t yet fallen head over heels for Felix, it gave up right then and there, with one bare foot over Felix’s shoulder. If it had ever existed, it was now silently singing the words _I love you_ to the tune of every song it knew.

Felix released his leg and picked up the other one to repeat the treatment on the other side. Sylvain’s heart pounded during the whole time it took Felix to slowly kiss the length of his leg. “Are you comfortable like this?” Felix asked as he unbuckled the remaining shoe.

“Yeah,” Sylvain breathed. Beyond just comfortable; this was like paradise. He let his eyes flutter shut.

Oh wait, Felix was talking about the lingerie. Felix’s hands came to rest on the sides of Sylvain’s hips, silently asking if he wanted to undress fully. “Actually, yeah, I’ll take these off,” Sylvain said.

“I’ve got it.” Felix thumbed the sides of the underwear, and Sylvain lifted his hips to let him slide them off. Sylvain pulled off the bralette himself, and the teamwork, the partnership of it made his heart ache.

“I’m sorry,” Felix said quietly.

“What for?”

“Well, I—” Felix bit his lip like he was holding back a guilty laugh. “I hope your bra thing is washable.”

Sylvain couldn’t help but kiss him on the cheek. “Hey Felix?” he said, overflowing with warmth.

“Yes?”

 _I love you, I love you, I love you._ “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

As Felix placed the shoes back in the closet and everything else in the hamper, Sylvain sat up on the bed and said, “Felix, I want to kiss you.”

Except this time, Felix didn’t make his mortified face before closing his eyes. And he didn’t say, “Fine,” either.

Felix simply said, “Of course,” and came back to him. He patiently waited for Sylvain to close the gap between them. Felix even made an obvious effort to stop biting his lip. Sylvain was pretty sure that this was the closest Felix would ever come to puckering up. Sylvain kissed him, and as Felix kissed back, it was easy to imagine that his lips were saying, “I wanted to kiss you too.”

That was how Sylvain knew that something between them had shifted. Maybe Felix really _had_ exorcised his inner demons for good today. Sylvain would kinda miss Felix’s cute embarrassed face of outrage, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit sexual content, involving... derogatory language? Nothing that hasn't been said before, but... misogyny and homophobia related stuff, in case anyone is sensitive to that.
> 
> Surprise! I'm posting this chapter early because I might not have time later in the week, so just pretend I posted this on Tuesday or something. It might be a few extra days until the next chapter, so I thought I would just put this out there already :) 
> 
> Also whoops this is the longest chapter yet (and possibly ever. I did not intend for it to get this long.)


	26. hot and cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday, May 12th. Sylvain wonders if they really need to be dating for him to be in love, or if they can just be... something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor content warning in the end notes!

By about this point in the relationship, the new relationship buzz had worn off just enough for Sylvain to come to his senses and realize this thing between him and Felix was _not,_ strictly speaking, a new relationship. At least, not the way he wanted. At least, not _yet._

Anyway, Sylvain couldn’t tell if it was progress or regression that Felix had apparently overcome… whatever it was that used to make him look like he was dying every time he kissed Sylvain. Did it mean that Felix’s interest in him was waning now that he’d satisfied his curiosity more times than Sylvain cared to count?

“I… think I need to shower,” Sylvain said when it felt like they were reaching the end of their designated post-sex cuddle session. (Felix had given him back his clothes, which Sylvain had mostly refused to put back on. Felix had sighed before taking off his shirt to match and curling up next to him.)

Felix blinked at him, momentarily pausing in the midst of trailing his fingers up and down Sylvain’s forearm. “Well, yes. Clearly that is true.”

Then inspiration struck Sylvain. He gasped and took Felix’s hands in his. “Oh my god!” he exclaimed, sitting up and bouncing on the bed with excitement. “I have a bathtub! We could take a bath together!” He knew it was cheesy, but he was stupid in love, both with Felix and with the idea of bathing with another person. It was such a couple-y activity, and he had never had a real enough relationship for it to happen before.

“No,” Felix said with a small frown.

“What? But you love baths!” Sylvain distinctly remembered that the lack of a bathtub was one of Felix’s favorite things to complain about when they’d lived together in the dorm.

Felix’s frown deepened. “I must admit, I do love baths…”

“Yeah, so let’s do it!”

“Sylvain. There’s no way we would both fit in there if we were laying down.”

Sylvain briefly imagined them being uncomfortably squished in together—maybe with Felix sitting between his legs and leaning back on his chest, or behind him, washing his hair—and decided he liked that idea more the longer he thought about it. He shot Felix his best puppy dog eyes.

“Dude. You haven’t showered since this time yesterday,” Felix said. “So no offense, but no.”

“Okay… so shower, and then bath?”

Felix made a disgusted sound. “Ugh, Sylvain!”

“What?”

“Can you please just take a hint? Just because we’ve had sex doesn’t mean I want us to shower together!”

“Aww, why? Are you embarrassed? Do you pee in the shower or something?”

Felix just looked increasingly perplexed. “What? No, I just prefer privacy—”

“Is this your way of saying you have to take a shit?” Sylvain teased.

“No. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, have you ever read Call Me By Your Name?”

“Uh, no? I don’t see how that’s—”

“I honestly wouldn’t recommend it—but really, then, what is there to be private about?”

“I don’t know!” Felix burst out in frustration. “Maybe I just like to be alone sometimes! Is that okay? Maybe you could just leave me alone for ten minutes?”

Ah. Just when Sylvain thought he’d figured something out, life pulled the rug out from under him. The world’s dynamic difficulty adjustment was just that sophisticated. _It’s okay, Sylvain,_ he told himself sternly. _Don’t be clingy. It’s okay if Felix doesn’t want everything to change. Enough things already have._

He just needed to be more realistic about his expectations. “So no shower sex?” he asked sadly.

Felix glared at him like he wanted to wring his neck. “Oh my god, I will fucking bite your dick off the next time I blow you.”

“So there’s a next time?” Sylvain asked hopefully.

Correction: Felix glared at him like he wanted to bite his dick off. “Not if I bite your dick off first,” he hissed. “I’m sure I can find a way to make it fatal.”

“Oh Felix,” Sylvain sighed fondly. “Your death threats just get more and more appealing.”

“Just go shower already,” Felix said coolly, rising from the bed. “You need it more than me. Besides” —he glanced back toward the closet— “I still have a jacket to mend.”

So Sylvain showered, wondering if Felix could be any more of a mystery if he tried.

In fact, it was truly perplexing. Sylvain zoned out thinking about it while towel-drying his hair. As stated previously, it seemed like they were _not_ actually dating—which was bizarre, because in Sylvain’s experience people usually caught feelings in like, two days tops. Ideally, it only took a day and/or night for someone to “accidentally” let slip the word love, or start texting “i can’t stop thinking about u” at random hours of the night.

Maybe it was because they were already living together that it didn’t feel like anything had changed? Or maybe girls were just easier to entice into dating? Or maybe Felix was just a difficult individual. That actually seemed most likely, now that he thought about it.

But in retrospect, it had made more sense when Felix had been embarrassed. Because yeah, who would be blasé about their friend-with-benefits kissing them all the time? But Felix clearly didn’t see him as more than that.

 _Yet,_ Sylvain reminded himself. Felix didn’t see him like that _yet._ Sylvain just needed to up his flirting game to get him worked up again. In order to get his fill of flustrated kisses, Sylvain would need to experiment.

And thus, operation Find New Ways to Make Felix Feel Something was born.

So as Felix was sipping an afternoon cup of tea, Sylvain flopped onto the couch and decided it was time to shed all his inhibitions and randomly toss out the question that had first occurred to him more than a year ago. “Hey Felix would you ever wanna do anal?” he asked all in one breath.

Felix choked on his tea.

Sylvain sat up in alarm. To be honest, he had expected to be endangering his own life with the suggestion, not Felix’s.

But Felix warded him away with a sharp hand motion and coughed, saying, “Wh—what makes you say that?”

“Oh, don’t worry, you can fuck me,” Sylvain quickly clarified.

“I didn’t mean—” Felix’s face was bright red, but that could be from either embarrassment or nearly being drowned by a thimbleful of liquid. While Sylvain was trying to decide which was funnier, Felix pulled himself together enough to say, “Yeah, sure, okay.”

“It’s okay if you don’t—wait, really? Wow! I mean, great! That was much easier than I thought it would be.”

“Were you planning to fucking _convince_ me?” Felix asked incredulously.

“Not _convince_ , exactly... but I had prepared a mental list of compelling reasons why you should consider it.”

Felix fidgeted in silence for a moment. He was looking down and wringing his hands, curling and twisting his fingers, hooking them around each other. (Was it just Sylvain’s one track mind that made it look suggestive, or…?)

Felix took a second more to work himself up to a blustering, “I already... um, you didn’t need to. I mean, I can—yeah. I think I know some of the reasons.”

“You mean you’ve... thought about it?” A sly grin tugged at the corners of Sylvain’s mouth.

Felix stood abruptly with a look of intense suffering twisting his face. “God, you just live to torture me, don’t you?” He snatched his mug back up into his hands and fidgeted with it, with motions that were sadly less reminiscent of fingering.

“Yeah, it’s pretty much my main reason to live at the moment,” Sylvain said as he braced himself, half expecting Felix to hurl the mug at his head.

Felix didn’t. He set it down and said, “And you don’t care that it’s... with me?”

“Dude, what? What are you asking me right now?”

Felix looked nervously away. “You know I’m not exactly... experienced.”

“Uh, yeah,” Sylvain said, suppressing a laugh. “I know it may be hard to believe, but I’m not with you for your level of sexual exp—”

“Shut the fuck up, idiot, I know that,” Felix snapped.

“Good. So, uh... how about tonight?”

“Okay. Sure. Tonight.” Felix slunk away, and Sylvain was pleased that he had been able to fluster Felix in what seemed to be a positive way again.

Too bad he could only play that card once.

When next he saw Felix, Sylvain found himself being dragged onto the balcony to give Lysithea the banana bread. “Hmm. We really should ask for her number or something,” Felix said as they stood awkwardly, wondering how to summon her.

“I’m sorry, are you _encouraging_ me to ask a girl for her number now?” Sylvain asked, holding the foil-wrapped loaf of banana bread. “Unprecedented times indeed!”

Felix rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have any… I don’t know… rocks?”

“Uh, what? Are you going to stone me to death?”

“No, dumbass, I was going to, like, toss pebbles at her window!”

“Oh, now _you’re_ tossing rocks at a girl’s window? Unprecedented—” Felix shut him up by shoving a hand over his mouth.

Felix was only spared having his hand licked by Lysithea’s sudden appearance as she slid open her door, wearing a light sundress and carrying her spritzer bottle. “Well, hello there,” she said, probably wondering what the fuck she had stumbled into.

“Lysithea!” Sylvain said as soon as Felix whipped his hand away from his mouth. “We have a delivery for you!” He lifted the bread, displaying it with one hand behind it like it was an unboxing video. “I hope you like banana bread.”

“Oh?” Lysithea said, looking impressed. “Why yes, I do.”

“Also, can I get your number? Uh, platonically. To schedule more dessert deliveries.”

“I suppose I can’t object to that,” she said, whipping a notepad out of a pocket Sylvain hadn’t expected her dress to have. She wrote on a sheet of paper, folded it up, and sent it over in the pulley basket.

“So we’re good now, right?” Felix asked as they sent over the loaf in return.

“Yes. At least until I give you guys something else…”

“Not if we give you something else first!” Sylvain threatened.

Lysithea tilted her head with a little smile. “It kinda sounds like we’re friends now, actually.”

“Huh. Maybe so.”

“Well, I was _planning_ to water my plants…” Lysithea trailed off, eyeing her new acquisition hungrily. “But now I really want to try the banana bread… okay, yeah, I’ll talk to you later. Thank you for the food—” She retreated into her apartment hilariously fast.

Sylvain turned to Felix with a grin while Felix put his hands on the railing and leaned back on it. “Well, there we have it,” Sylvain said, wrapping an arm around his waist and giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

“Sylvain!” Felix hissed. “What if someone sees us?” That wasn’t the kind of frustration Sylvain had been trying for, but…

“Who’s gonna see us?” Sylvain teased. “Lysithea? I’m pretty sure she already kinda thinks we’re banging.”

Felix indignantly pushed him away and said, “Sylvain, we’re out in broad daylight!”

That was debatable, since the sun was already starting to set, giving the whole scene romantic lighting that felt wasted on their non-romantic relationship. “We’re also on the twelfth floor,” said Sylvain. “And just kissing isn’t a crime by itself.”

“Just—just come back inside—”

“Damn, you’re so moody,” Sylvain said, letting Felix drag him back indoors.

“The moodiness is part of my appeal.” Felix kissed him before running away again. Sylvain was more confused than ever.

_how are my favorite lovebirds doing today?_

_lovebirds??_

_just trying it out_

_i don’t think it works. try again_

_um. fuckbunnies?_

_that’s…also bad._

_um…….._

_please do not try again_

_you blew your chance_

_ok well! im still asking! hows it going??_

_good question_

_it’s… interesting_

_oh thats so vague and ominous_

_it’s just like…._

_being with felix…is like…_

_hmm._

_touches the stove. touches the stove. touches th_

_uhhh_

_you two are truly an enchanting duo_

_and tbh i’m not even sure which one of us is the stove_

_¯\\_(_ ツ _)_/¯ you know?_

_no, i do not know even a little bit_

_but like, if the stove could also reach zero degrees kelvin._

_then im definitely the one touching it_

_is this??? the true meaning of boys will be boys?_

_gays will be gay, maybe?_

_no. bc i am gay, yet i manage not to touch the stove repeatedly_

_well allow me to explain:_

_um._

_it can’t be a weed if i water it?_

_bro what the fuck are you talking about?_

_the love. he destroyed his cage._

_yes. YES. the love is out_

_oh sylvain, i only wish i could understand you_

_he is the lyre. the pomegranate. the walk to hell and back_

_buddy. please. i dont speak whatever language this is_

_i would elbow drop a giraffe for his love._

_i literally don’t know how to make it any clearer than that._

_ah. so u still havent told him you like him huh_

_no i haven’t TOLD him!! do u think i’m crazy??_

_don’t answer that_

_ok_

_i just!! i’m in too deep._

_like, how is it that i can screw his brains out and still not know if he likes me?!_

_yeah, thats really fascinating,_

_and wtf is wrong with u_

_i wish i knew_

_why cant u just ask him tho???_

_trust me, i’m asking myself the same question_

_i’m just out here, like,_

_living my best life and my sexiest nightmare simultaneously_

_it’s actually insanely funny._

_insanely funny, or funnily insane?_

_yeah maybe that works better_

_i’m just…so smadly in love with him :(_

_smadly?_

_sadly/madly_

_cant u just tell him that?!_

_the definition of smadly? sure_

_no, that youre in love with him!!_

_oh. then no._

_grrrr why not????_

_there’s just… no way to know how he feels and it’s driving me crazy_

_i do not agree?_

_there is a way to know. just ask him_

_i can’t :(_

_i think its the low self-esteem_

_sylvain. u are inherently lovable._

_omg ingrid you can’t just come out of nowhere and say that!!_

_yes i can_

_and i will. and i will continue telling u until u believe me_

_omg…_

_but god, ur really testing my patience rn_

_haha…sorry_

_i keep hoping you’ll have a moment of post-nut clarity and just tell him_

_but apparently thats too much to ask_

_yeah no my mind is never clear_

_that much is obvious_

_but for real, whats stopping u??_

_its just like... i used to say i love you to everyone i dated_

_bc i just thought thats what they wanted to hear… like, to make them stay_

_but now i want to mean it for real_

_and i…feel like it will mean nothing. like the words are empty_

_you know. coming from me._

_sylvain, if you mean it, it cant possibly be empty!_

_bc YOU are not empty! stop self-sabotaging by believing otherwise!_

_omg don’t make me cry_

_you are inherently lovable AND capable of love_

_omg stop i already talked to my therapist this week_

_and felix better know that as well as i do_

_or else he doesnt deserve u_

_seriously ingrid you’re gonna make me cry if u say nice things about me_

_why cant i speak the truth??_

_bc i will get very gay and emo over it_

_ok fine. i will wait and tell you again tomorrow_

_omg…_

_but also, what makes u think he couldnt like you the same way??_

_well he’s not going mushy on me yet_

_maybe he still will! maybe yall are just taking the scenic route to a relationship?_

_scenic route???_

_yeah? as opposed to ur usual speedrun??_

_but it needs to be a speedrun. this is a one week crash course_

_ah, right…love in the time of coronavirus…_

_yeah_

_but hey, if hes letting you boink his brains out…_

_that seems like a good start_

_“boink”?_

_youre dodging the question_

_why would boinking me be related to his feelings tho??_

_kajfjhak sylvain you dumb slut_

_many people prefer to have sex with people theyre romantically attracted to_

_you think felix knows what “romantic attraction” is??_

_he looks away when people kiss in movies!_

_… ok yeah_

_but wait. so do i_

_yeah you’re both erotophobic_

_…you got me there_

_but i think he’s also…romantophobic?_

_like, i know for a FACT that he hates valentines day_

_again, so do i_

_i would bet you money he gets seasick at the mere thought of weddings_

_yeah…i would not take that bet_

_i bet theres a real word for romantophobic tho_

_just googled it. it’s philophobic_

_fear of “romantic love or forming emotional attachments of any sort”_

_… ok, yeah, but…_

_… ok…. YEAH… but…._

_yeah. exactly_

_i don’t think he has even considered romance as an option, ever_

_but… i mean…_

_hes friends with you_

_and all you do is flirt_

_so i feel like he should at least be tangentially aware of the phenomenon_

_why am i being shamed :(_

_its just facts_

_also, being aware of romance =/= being interested in it_

_plus you havent seen how wildly horny he is_

_wait are we talking about the same person??_

_yeah, felix?_

_he could totally be tolerating me just to get some dick_

_tmi tmi tmi_

_sorry. d*ck_

_ok but like. give me a single shred of evidence that he DOESNT like u_

_ok well, you asked for it_

_reasons why i know he doesn’t like me that way:_

_1\. this all happened bc he said he likes GUYS, not that he likes ME_

_2\. as mentioned earlier, we didn’t exactly start with kissing._

_so no points to romance for that_

_3\. he acts completely normal around me, like we’re still just friends_

_(unless we’re currently fucking, in which case he’s in sex mode. lol)_

_bruh. tmi_

_ok! jeez! when we f*ck_

_thats not better_

_stop interrupting my list!!!_

_4\. said he doesn’t fantasize about anyone in particular_

_5\. doesn’t want to shower/bathe with me_

_6\. didn’t even want to cuddle me_

_no cuddling????_

_yeah :(_

_…wtf?_

_that’s so rude?!?! wtf felix_

_i mean, he cuddles me a bit after sex now_

_but i think its only bc i, um, explicitly asked him to…_

_> :( _

_i want that twink obliterated_

_nooo pls do not obliterate him_

_i have grown attached to him_

_plus, tonight we’re gonna_

_wait actually no_

_tonight youre gonna…?????_

_u don’t wanna hear this_

_???????_

_did u…schedule a sex act?_

_yes_

_yeah i dont wanna know_

_the point is!!! whatevers going on between us, its like, not perfect_

_but its def too good to give up_

_it’s like, SO CLOSE to being everything i want..._

_oh sylvain_

_im sorry? i think?_

_just please dump him if hes not treating u right_

_can't dump him if we’re not dating_

_u could stop fucking him tho_

_no but wait, i wasn’t done with my explanation_

_reasons why i want him anyway:_

_no stop!!_

_i dont want to hear_

_wh…why??_

_i already know felix. i dont need to hear what about him bigs your dick_

_I WASNT GOING TO TELL YOU WHAT BIGS MY DICK_

_oh then please go on_

_sheesh, i get no respect around here_

_ok, reasons why i ROMANTICALLY like him anyway:_

_1\. he’s just… so sweet and attentive…_

_like, he remembers the things i say and brings them back up?_

_so it feels like we’re constantly creating inside jokes just between the two of us?_

_2\. he lets me take his hair out of his bun <3_

_and lets me braid his hair before bed to “practice”_

_< 3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3_

_awww <3 <3_

_he’s started making food for me_

_(i think its just bc he feels bad, but like)_

_(doesnt he know food is a metaphor for love??)_

_and when we’re together it feels like we’re the only ones in the room_

_arent u??_

_well nowadays, yes_

_but it has always felt like that with him_

_and like, he laughs and it makes me so happy inside?_

_and when we kiss i actually feel sparks??_

_(but that might just be a me thing…)_

_and i just. want to spend all my time with him. and i’m real messy about it_

_wait, what number should i be on?_

_awww sylvain… you really are in love <3_

_well yeah!_

_did u not believe me when i said i was smadly in love?!_

_i believed you!_

_its just that its really cute to hear about :)_

_yeah :’)_

_its like, so cute. and so, so confusing_

_*cries in gay*_

_sorry for ur pain, but lol_

_it’s just like!! i wish he cared deeply about me!_

_but sweet lord i also want to do that man every which way!_

_yet i can only express one of those two sentiments_

_i wanna wrap my legs around that waist all day, you know?_

_sylvain do u think that isnt tmi just bc it doesnt have the words fuck or dick in it?_

_i can want to wrap my legs around his waist romantically!!_

_ok as crazy as this is to say… i think i get it_

_not on like a “ive felt this” level,_

_but on a “youve adequately described it” level_

_you can stop describing it now_

_ok and? what do i do?_

_well that depends_

_what do you want to do?_

_just. love him._

_then just do that._

_i already do_

_then just keep doing that._

_i already will_

_guess youve already made up your mind then <3_

_yeah <3_

_thanks ingrid_

_i actually feel a bit calmer_

_i can take the s off of smadly now_

_im glad :)_

_thanks for checking in_

_of course :) i do actually like hearing from you, you know!_

_awww_

_same to you_

_yeah! whenever i start wanting to make a mess of my life_

_i just text you and vicariously satisfy the urge :)_

_wow. thanks ingie_

_ingie?_

_just trying it out_

_please no_

_grid-grid?_

_you dont have dorotheas talent for nicknames_

_thanks :)_

_oh how’s that going btw?_

_it is going great_

_and thus we do not have to have a long convo about it_

_damn, ok. message received_

_i just prefer to keep my private life private_

_ok i can respect that_

_just one question:_

_pussy still impeccable?_

_goodbye sylvain_

_lolololol_

_i love u ingie!!_

_ur so annoying lol_

_but i love you too <3_

That evening, Sylvain managed to steal back the task of making dinner by starting to cook ridiculously early and refusing to tell Felix what he was making. “Oh. I’ve never tried risotto before,” Felix said as he was finally invited back to the kitchen when the food was ready.

And then shame returned to Felix in a way Sylvain would have never wanted it to, with all of the anguish and none of the blushing.

They were eating dinner. Or rather, Sylvain was eating dinner, and Felix was mostly just playing with the food on his plate. Except the word “playing” implied that Felix was having fun, which he absolutely did not appear to be. He was staring down at his plate, miserably pushing the food around like he hoped it would disappear if he ground it into small enough pieces.

Or like he was too busy not saying something to eat. Like there was something on the tip of his tongue that he was refusing to let out.

Sylvain found himself doing the same thing, both playing with the food on his plate and not saying what he was thinking. His mind was spinning out of his control, phrasing and rephrasing the question that was nagging at him in a torturous echo: _Are you mad at me? Are you upset with me? Hey Fe, are you upset with me? Hey Felix, is something wrong? Hey, um, did I do something wrong—_

Felix spoke first. “Sorry—”

“Are you mad at me?” Sylvain blurted in response. “Shit. Sorry, I just meant that it seems like something’s bothering you, and—”

“I’m not mad at you! Are you kidding? I don’t want you to be mad at _me_!”

“What? Why would I even be mad at you?”

“Because I’m not eating!”

Silence hung heavy in the air between them. Sylvain couldn’t seem to breathe. So it wasn’t just his imagination that Felix had been playing with his food like he wanted it to disappear.

Then Felix spoke again. “I’m trying to,” he said, looking down at his plate. “I swear to god, I’m trying, and I don’t want you to think I don’t appreciate you cooking for me. But I just... I can’t bring myself to eat this. Sorry. I think it’s, like, a texture thing—”

“Hey. It’s okay.” Sylvain reached across the table to touch his hand. “Would you want to eat something else?”

Felix looked up at him like he had just asked if he would like the moon for dinner. “What?”

“You could eat something else. Like, if you’d rather eat breakfast food or skip straight to dessert—and I didn’t mean that as innuendo, by the way, I just mean I can make you something else, if you want.”

Felix just looked bewildered. “But I’m just being picky, aren’t I?”

“You don’t have to force yourself to eat something you don’t like! Is that news to you?” Sylvain asked, heart sinking.

“I—yeah? I guess I’m not used to being... accommodated. I guess.” Felix stared blankly at his plate with that dead look in his eyes that made Sylvain’s heart break each time he saw it.

“Felix, I’m going to do more than fucking _accommodate_ you,” Sylvain said adamantly. “You’re allowed to be picky! You can have preferences! Don’t just suffer in silence! I’m certainly not going to guilt you into eating things you don’t like. Who the fuck even—”

The look on Felix’s face said it all.

“—oh.”

“Yeah,” Felix said, pursing his lips. “We were a suffer-in-silence kind of family.”

“God, I hate your parents,” Sylvain blurted. “Wait. Fuck, sorry. I meant… only as much as you hate your parents?”

“That’s okay,” Felix said with a wry smile. “I hate your parents, too.”

Sylvain took Felix's plate, and Felix made no move to stop him as he scraped the contents into the trash can, saying, “Goodbye, you failure of a food!” Even in the moment, Sylvain couldn’t help but feel that this was some sort of cinematic parallel to dumping Felix’s whiskey in the sink just a few days ago.

Felix was watching him with a sweet, sad sort of smile when he turned back around.

Sylvain wanted to see Felix smile happily.

He turned to address the trash can again. “Maybe next time you should try being a food Felix actually wants to eat, you—you good-for-nothing, disappointing, subpar form of pasta!” He marched back to Felix then, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “So,” Sylvain said with a sense of finality.

“So?”

“Now that the evil is defeated, what do you want for dinner?”

Felix suddenly wrapped his arms around Sylvain, too, hugging him tight around the middle.

“Whoa!” Sylvain laughed lightly, surprised by the show of affection. “Hey there.”

“I—” Felix’s shoulders shook like he was crying. “I—” he said again. Then Sylvain realized he was laughing. “I guess we both hate risotto now, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Sylvain agreed. “What’s the fucking point of it? You think I’d make something if we can’t eat it together? Perish the thought!”

“Eff,” said Felix as if in agreement.

“Eff?”

“F. I’m paying my respects.”

“Respects?!” Sylvain repeated in mock outrage. “To the risotto? It doesn’t _deserve_ respect!” Felix laughed again, and Sylvain’s heart pounded. He wanted to kiss Felix on the head, but maybe this was the wrong moment for that. This was just a being-a-decent-friend-and-person thing, not a I’m-in-love-with-you thing, and he didn’t want Felix to think otherwise—

Then he felt Felix nuzzle his face the slightest bit against his chest. His heart swooped. He kissed Felix softly on the head. And he knew Felix felt it, because Felix kissed the center of his chest.

“Thanks,” Felix said, voice softened by his shirt. “But you don’t have to make me any—”

“Shh,” Sylvain said, hugging him into silence. “This is a no suffering household. No suffering tolerated. It’s all gotta go.”

“But I—”

“Nope.” He grabbed Felix’s hands and guided him through the motions of scooping something up and dumping it in the garbage. He put his foot on the little pedal to lift the lid, saying, “Right into the bin. Thank you very much.”

“Okay, I get it!” Felix laughed. “But really, I really don’t have to eat anything else—”

“Disgusting,” Sylvain said, frowning. “Now I have to eat _you—”_

He kissed Felix on the nose while Felix was unbearably cute, laughing and shying away from him in the way that Sylvain knew wasn’t really trying to avoid him.

“So,” he said, pulling slightly back to see Felix’s face. “For real, what do you want? Quick, while the kitchen’s still open.”

“Hmm... maybe a grilled cheese?”

“Excellent choice! A far superior form of cheese, butter and wheat. Coming right up!”

And as Sylvain made the grilled cheese using the bread they had baked together—the normal kind, not the banana kind that would’ve probably made Felix puke even without the addition of cheese—Felix came up behind him at the stove and hugged him again.

“Thanks,” he said into the back of Sylvain’s shirt. “I needed that.” Sylvain didn’t even need to know which part Felix meant. He was happy they were together, in whatever way that was. “And… I’m sorry. That you thought I was mad at you.”

“Ah, no worries,” said Sylvain. “I think I was just reading too much into everything.”

“Well, read too much into _this._ ” Felix's breath was warm on Sylvain's neck as Felix stood on his tiptoes to kiss behind his ear. All of Sylvain’s worries melted away.

Once they were finished dinner, Sylvain expected Felix to run away to be alone again—but instead, Felix asked, completely out of the blue, “Do you want to see a movie tonight?”

Sylvain nearly had to take a seat to cope with the question. He was pretty sure he had had this dream before, and it ended with sneaky movie theatre handjobs. He had never gotten to go on a date to the movies before…

But then he realized that could not possibly be what Felix meant. “You mean here, right?” he checked.

“Yeah, I think it’s physically impossible to go to a movie theatre right now, so…”

This was either Felix’s way of asking him on a date, or Felix’s way of reminding him that they were friends, first and foremost. “So, what movie do you want to watch?”

Felix shrugged. “I dunno. Something terrible.”

All the better for handjobs. They wouldn’t want to miss anything worthwhile, right? No, wait, no handjobs! Bad brain! God, Sylvain, get it together!

“Uh, why do you wanna see something terrible?” Sylvain asked cautiously.

Felix looked at him like he was stupid (which he probably was). “Because it’s Terrible Movie Tuesday.”

“Oh! Right.” So it wasn’t a date. Right? Felix _wasn’t_ asking him out on a date. He was reading too much into it again. He thought he should have felt more disappointed, but the fact that Felix had remembered Terrible Movie Tuesday/Thursday and found the experience worth repeating made him a little sappy instead.

So what if Felix wasn’t thinking of it as a date? Sylvain could still enjoy watching a terrible movie with him as if it were a date, right? Could it really be wrong to be dating someone in your mind if they were kissing you in real life? Sylvain was starting to get a little addled from existing in this strange, in-between state of being best friends who also fuck and cuddle.

Maybe sleeping with Felix again had been a mistake. Nothing made sense anymore. But that could also just be a logical consequence of getting fucked silly so many times in three days.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Felix asked.

“Um, of a movie?” (Not another sex act?)

“Yes...?”

“Oh. Sure.” Sylvain trailed off, trying to center his mind on the potential movies instead of potential… other things. “Wanna watch Jennifer’s Body?”

“No, that’s a _great_ movie,” Felix said.

“Wait, you’ve seen it before?”

“Yes. That’s what happens when you have movie night with Ingrid and Dorothea.”

“When was this?! And why wasn’t I invited?!”

“You _were_ invited,” Felix said, looking annoyed. “You, however, informed us that you had a very important tinder date that evening.”

“Oh. Oops. Uh, how about Bat Pussy—”

“No.”

“Okay, The Room?”

“Sure.”

“It has about the same amount of anatomically incorrect sex as Bat Pussy,” Sylvain warned.

“Oh, what the hell, then,” Felix grumbled. “We can watch whatever you want.” When they settled in bed to watch The Room with bowls of ice cream, Felix leaned his head onto Sylvain’s shoulder.

Sylvain could barely pay enough attention to do his commentary, too giddy about how sweetly Felix was curled up next to him, all the warm places where they touched through their pajamas. He tried to suppress a shiver when Felix turned his head to chuckle into the side of his neck at a line he hadn’t even realized was funny until this moment.

Maybe not everything was meant to change between them. Felix as a friend was still a wonderful thing to have. It was almost too good to be true.

Suddenly Sylvain knew how to get Felix’s adorable mortified face back. “Felix, I want to kiss you,” he declared as usual, waiting to let Felix close his eyes in consent.

This time was no different than the last time, except Sylvain had decided to have a little fun with it. He pinched Felix’s cheeks instead of kissing him. “Hey!” Felix protested, slapping his hands away.

“Oh, sorry! You thought right now? I meant in general,” Sylvain added with an easy smile. “But okay, I can kiss you.”

And the results were excellent. Not only did Felix close his eyes again, but he made the cutest little face before doing so, one eyebrow twitching before he finally said, “Fine,” and shut his eyes.

Sylvain booped him on the nose while Felix made a sound of deep exasperation. Sylvain decided he might have to do this version more often, because Felix getting outraged about being played was almost as enjoyable an outcome as kissing him.

Then Felix huffed and crawled to sit between Sylvain’s legs, leaning back against his chest. “I’m only doing this so you can’t mess with me anymore,” he said gruffly. Sylvain glowed with satisfaction. He hadn’t gotten a bath with Felix, but he had gotten Felix.

And on a certain level, it didn’t even matter if Felix didn’t feel the same way. Sylvain just loved being around him, spending time with him, braiding his hair as they finished the movie he was barely watching. Feeling his stomach flutter the way it didn’t with anyone else.

Perhaps he could just enjoy being in love with his sex-friend the same way he had enjoyed being in love with his best friend: privately. Turbulently. Carelessly and on purpose.

“I’ll take the bowls back to the kitchen,” Felix offered. “And then I’ll be back to, um…”

Sylvain grinned, eagerly awaiting the end of that sentence.

“Fuck you,” Felix muttered, fleeing the room. Sylvain didn’t care which way he meant it anymore.

_May 12, 2020 at 10:25 PM_

_you grew onto my heart like a vine to a trellis. it was a slow process, but now you engulf me in blooms. it’s strangely heavy. much more weight than i thought my heart could ever support. i feel you woven so deep into me, tendrils coiled tight around each of my ribs, around each tiny bone of my fingers. when i think of you leaving, my chest tightens, and i feel your thorns against my spine._

_people can’t actually die of a broken heart, right? i thought i’d had my heart broken before, but it never hurt half as much as i hurt imagining you gone._

_and yet, i want to take care of this love. i want to water it. i want to feed it like a sourdough starter until it is too big to contain._

_did you know that i sensed it the first time we met? it wasn’t love at first sight or anything, but the encounter tied a knot between us. and i’ve felt it ever since, pulling me back to you. i want to follow that cord to its destination. destination, in the true sense of the word._

_i used to think that loving you was fate: something inevitable to be accepted, to run from and never quite escape. but now I feel like loving you is destiny: something to aspire to, to live up to. you are a future I want to strive toward._

_and i will. i’ll nurture it. i am choosing this._

_and i think i’ve been watering it all along._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for discussion of disordered eating. 
> 
> Also, sorry for the delay! I'm aware that this is the longest I've gone without updating. While I don't necessarily need to explain myself, I was, uh, in a car accident last week that kinda... totaled a car and shook up my life a bit. Luckily no one was seriously injured, so no need to worry or anything! But yeah in addition to that, I now have midterms... so I still might die haha
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy! This chapter kinda spiraled out of control, but hopefully the end result is pleasant enough.


	27. punch line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tuesday, May 12th - Wednesday, May 13th. Felix follows through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings in the end notes! If you know me in real life, skip this chapter. Please. Thank you.

Felix was having trouble hiding how nervous he was for that night. It wasn’t that he wasn’t willing (or even eager, on some level,) to fuck Sylvain, but somehow he had hoped that agreeing to it would… unlock some secret gay area of his brain? Which would… overwhelm his fears with horniness or something?

Unfortunately, if that area of his brain did exist, all it had done was leave him with some very embarrassing search history on google from covertly trying to learn everything there was to know about anal sex in one afternoon. And still, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that he would undoubtedly find a way to be awful at this and make Sylvain lose interest in him.

“Uh, can I ask why you keep it in the bathroom?” Felix asked as Sylvain returned with the lube.

Sylvain grinned slyly. “You may ask.”

“Okay...? Why do you—”

“Oh, no reason!” Sylvain batted his eyelashes like there was definitely a reason.

Felix tried not to think about that and snatched the bottle out of Sylvain’s hands. “Ugh, salted caramel flavor?” he said, turning it over in his hands. “Really?”

“Hey, I didn’t know who I would be using it with! Or... what I’d be using it for...”

Felix tried not to think about that either. “So, you’ve, uh, done this before?”

“By ‘this,’ you mean ’taking it up the ass’, right?” Sylvain winked.

Felix died inside at his crudeness. “Yes.”

“I actually haven’t. But I’ve heard my mouth is pretty good!” Sylvain said, flashing his typical flirty grin.

Felix made a disgruntled sound. “Sylvain, can you please stop making jokes for two whole minutes?”

“Okay, okay! The answer is no. First time for both of us. I’m still like, one fourth of a virgin in that regard.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Felix said wryly.

“Well, not _with_ someone else,” Sylvain corrected, misunderstanding which part he didn’t believe, “but I have used my fingers before.”

Felix suppressed a shiver. “So… nothing else?”

“I have used, um… a toy.” Sylvain looked a little sheepish, but not particularly shy about it.

Felix, however, felt heat rising in his face like it was his own sexual history being laid bare. If Sylvain had asked him the same question, he wasn’t sure he would have been willing to admit the truth. And the truth was that he had, too. Once.

He had done it during the summer after sophomore year in a fit of 3am madness. It had been unbearably hot as he was stuck in his room at his parents house, and he’d been inexplicably angry at the world and just so _sick_ with loneliness and meaningless curiosity that he’d just said fuck it and tried it. First with a finger. And when that wasn’t wide enough, two. And then he snuck his hairbrush out of his bedside drawer, slicked the handle with coconut oil, and pushed it into himself.

He hadn’t slept that night. He’d showered first thing in the morning afterward and washed his sweaty sheets, afraid the whole world could smell his guilt. After that, he stuck to just using his fingers.

So he could not even imagine how ballsy Sylvain must have been to either walk into a sex shop and buy a “toy” in broad daylight, or order it online without even seeing it in real life. (Although he supposed having a permanent address that wasn’t his parents’ house would certainly have helped with the second option…)

“Damn, I didn’t realize that would be such a surprise…” Sylvain’s voice brought Felix back to the present, where Sylvain was watching him, looking quite entertained.

To hide his nerves, Felix sputtered, “I mean—I’m just surprised there’s something you haven’t done before.” _And that we’re going to do it together._

Sylvain just laughed and started undressing with an enviable lack of modesty, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the pillows. His pants and underwear quickly followed. Sylvain lay down on top of the covers, completely naked, reclining like a king, broad-shouldered and unselfconscious. And still grinning expectantly, like he was excited to see how this all would play out.

Face still burning, Felix followed suit by taking off his pajama bottoms before climbing onto the bed in his shirt and underwear. “How come I’m usually the more naked one of the two of us?” asked Sylvain as Felix knelt between his splayed legs.

“I just get cold!” Felix said defensively. “And we’re not just—just _doing it_ immediately!”

“You’re so funny, Felix,” Sylvain chuckled.

Felix sighed in exasperation. “So should we just—”

“Yeah. I’m ready whenever you are.”

Okay. He could do this. He had read the guides online, the tips and tricks. He had planned how to do this. Without even thinking, Felix cracked his knuckles before reaching for the lube—

And suddenly Sylvain was laughing again. “Oh my god, I feel like I’m being _threatened_ —”

“I’m just nervous, okay?!” Felix snapped. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Not particularly,” Sylvain said, his smile finally looking a little sympathetic. “And there’s no need to be nervous.” He grabbed the lube back before Felix could react. “I’ll take care of it.”

Soon, Sylvain was laying back with his legs butterflied open and hips propped up by a pillow, fingering himself open in preparation. (And yes, it was the fucking divorce pillow.) Felix found himself staring at where Sylvain’s finger entered his body, partly out of curiosity and wanting to learn how, but mostly because it was… really fucking hot. “Can I try?” he asked, surprising both of them.

“Eh, why would you want to? This isn’t the fun part for you,” Sylvain said, looking like it wasn’t the fun part for him either. He seemed utterly unaffected by his own ministrations—bored, even. “Don’t worry about it. I can just do it quickly,” he said as he absently pumped his middle finger into himself.

Why would he _want_ to? Was that a serious question? Felix steeled himself. Sylvain had told him to ask for the things he wanted, right? He tried to beat back the embarrassment threatening to overwhelm him.

“I do want to do it,” he said. “Because... well, first of all, you look bored as hell doing this, and it wouldn’t be boring for me. And secondly” —Sylvain liked when he talked a bit more explicitly, right?— “it might help me fuck you better. If I… if I already knew what you felt like inside.” He only tripped over the words a little bit, and for that he was proud of himself.

A bit of color bloomed in Sylvain’s face. “Oh. Yeah, sure. You can. If you really want to.”

So Felix squeezed out some lube onto the pads of his fingers and replaced Sylvain’s hand with his own, tentatively touching his hole.

“Ah, cold!” Sylvain said, squirming and laughing a little.

“Sorry—” Felix hurriedly rubbed his fingers up and down over Sylvain’s center, hoping the friction would warm his cursedly cool fingers.

Sylvain squirmed more in response, sucking in a tight breath. “Ah—”

“Sorry, they’ll—they’ll warm up soon—” Right? Wouldn’t they? “Fuck, sorry, I—”

“Oh my god, Felix, it’s fine!” Sylvain said, laughing at his reaction. “It feels, ah—it feels _good_.”

“…Oh.” Felix felt his blood heat from the inside out. He circled Sylvain’s rim a bit more slowly. “Can I—”

“Yes.” Sylvain put his hand over Felix’s and pushed Felix’s finger in using one of his own.

Their two fingers slid home. “Wow. That was… way easier than I thought,” Felix said.

Sylvain gave a breathless laugh and withdrew his own finger. “Are you calling me loose?”

“Yes,” Felix joked. “Whore.”

Sylvain softly laughed again. The light sound slipped past Felix’s defenses and made him feel giddy. “You know,” Sylvain started, “I’ve... actually, never mind. It’s probably stupid.”

“You’ve what?” Felix asked. “You can say it if you want.”

“I’ve never laughed this much during sex before,” Sylvain said in a rush. He then hid his face in one elbow by draping his arm over his eyes. “Eh, sorry. That probably made it weird.”

“No, that’s okay,” Felix said, affection bubbling up inside him. “I... I’m glad that it’s... fun? Or at least funny.” It did feel a little weird to be talking to Sylvain like this while having a finger in him, but it would have been weirder to try _not_ to talk to him... “Should I... move?”

“Yes. Please.”

He slid out a bit, and then in again. It still didn’t seem to get much of a response from Sylvain.

“You can put another,” Sylvain said helpfully.

“Okay…” Felix withdrew his hand, drizzled more lube onto the pads of his fingers (just in case), and then pushed one finger into Sylvain before sliding in the other right alongside it, trying to spread the lube inside Sylvain as much as he could. Sylvain made a little sound as Felix twisted his fingertips just inside of him.

Then Felix pushed in deeper. He would never have thought losing sight of his fingers inside Sylvain would be as arousing as it was. Even as a participant, it felt voyeuristic. To watch them withdraw, glistening, before sliding them back in. The motion earned him a tiny twitch of Sylvain’s hips.

Hmm. He wanted more of that.

Once Felix finally had his fingers worked in as far as they would go, he started flexing and curling them, searching for the spot he knew must be somewhere. Allegedly. According to his research. Sylvain made a weird facial expression and said, “It’s a little more forward… but it’s kinda far back, so it might take more than just fingers to—”

He fucking _convulsed_ , gasping as Felix pressed harder into his slick walls.

The gasp bled into a moan when Felix pulled back slightly. The nerves tingling in Felix’s belly dissolved into sweet tendrils of heat. He heard the sound on a level he hadn’t known human ears could register. “Like that?” Felix asked, unable to keep the gloating note out of his voice. Without giving Sylvain a chance to answer, he pulled his fingers out a bit more, and then jabbed them forward into that same spot.

Sylvain spasmed again, his mouth falling open with an unrestrained groan. He tossed his head back into the pillow, the pale column of his neck stretching long as he arched. His eyes had long since drifted shut. He panted fast and said, “ _Fuck,_ fuck, Felix, oh my god, I can’t believe you’re—”

Felix did it again just to see Sylvain’s face contort with pleasure mid-sentence. Oh, this was just too much fun. He felt like he could get high off doing this.

“Right there!” Sylvain said. “God, yes, _right fucking there_ —”

“Somehow I knew that without you having to say it.” Felix grinned, though Sylvain wouldn’t see it with his eyes squeezed shut. Being able to literally push Sylvain’s buttons was sadistically satisfying.

Actually, what was the opposite of sadistic? He was honestly just enjoying inflicting pleasure. He couldn’t believe he had almost let Sylvain rob him of this experience.

Sylvain whined weakly as Felix refocused on brushing that spot more gently. “Mmm—” He bit his lip, holding back the sound.

“Come on, Sylvain,” Felix goaded, “I know you can be louder than that. You’ve moaned louder for me before.”

Sylvain immediately let his mouth fall open and moaned indulgently. The sound was so undeniably genuine that Felix got chills down his spine from hearing it. He brushed that spot again, and again, and again.

He only wished he could’ve also had his hands on Sylvain’s back to feel each moan vibrate in his chest. “Fuck, I wish I could fuck you like this and hold you at the same time,” Felix said without thinking.

“All in due time,” Sylvain sighed dreamily, his muscles relaxed and cheeks flushed with pleasure. “That’s what your cock is for, babe.”

With his fingers still moving inside Sylvain, Felix kissed up Sylvain’s thigh, and then moved inward to place darting little kitten licks on his cock. He licked over the head and at the wetness leaking onto Sylvain’s stomach. It was the same taste as earlier—a little salty, a little bitter. But Felix didn’t like sweet things anyway. Sylvain’s hands found their way into his hair and tangled fingers into it, rubbing at his scalp in a way Felix secretly found incredibly soothing. Felix rubbed Sylvain's cock with his free hand as a reward.

“Fuck, Felix, come on, _faster_ —ah, ah—faster, please.” Even as Sylvain begged for it, Felix could tell Sylvain was still in control. He wanted to change that. Make Sylvain as helpless in his hands as he had felt in Sylvain’s.

“No,” he said.

“Mmm, please Felix, please—”

“Maybe I don’t want to do it faster.” He could tell Sylvain was close, and he wasn’t done enjoying this yet.

Sylvain whined, but he didn’t say no as Felix slowed his pace. With both the fingers in Sylvain’s ass and the ones around his dick, Felix pumped him torturously slow.

“Felix, I’m so close, please!” Sylvain cried senselessly.

“Oh, you are?” Felix cinched his hand tight around the base of Sylvain’s cock and let his fingers go still inside Sylvain’s hole. “Thanks for letting me know.” Sylvain’s muscles fluttered around his fingers like his body was trying to orgasm anyway.

And when the realization set in, Sylvain looked like he really might cry. “You’re so cruel,” he whined, distraught. “You’re such an asshole.”

“You’re not just realizing that now, right?” Felix waited until Sylvain’s breathing had evened out a bit before starting to pump his fingers in and out again.

Sylvain moaned as Felix accidentally brushed his prostate. “You’re so cruel,” Sylvain repeated in a whisper, his eyebrows furrowed in anguish.

“And you want me anyway.”

Sylvain shook when he pushed his fingertips into the spot again. “Yes,” he shuddered, “I want you. I want you.”

Oh, this was fucking amazing. How had he not thought to do this before? How had he never even _considered_ edging Sylvain? God, what an oversight. Sylvain was fucking _made_ for this.

Sylvain snuck a hand down to jerk himself off, but Felix grabbed his hand and said, “Hey Sylvain, sit up for a second, will you?”

“O-okay…” Sylvain curled up off the bed slightly.

Felix guided one of Sylvain’s hands and then the other so that they were crossed behind his back. “Thanks.”

He pushed Sylvain to lay back down with his free hand, effectively pinning Sylvain’s arms down below his own body. And then he kept pressing on Sylvain’s chest so he couldn’t sit up again. “Oh my god—oh, oh…” Sylvain tapered off into a liquid moan.

Felix grinned. He liked seeing (and hearing, and feeling) Sylvain enjoying himself.

Then he tried rubbing the area inside Sylvain lightly instead of just going straight in for the kill and was rewarded with a shaky moan and Sylvain’s whole body tensing. “Oh, bitch. This fucking rules,” Felix muttered to himself under his breath.

“What did you sa—”

Felix stroked inside of his velvety wetness again instead of answering.

“—holy fucking mother of god,” Sylvain gasped.

Yeah, this was pretty much paradise.

For the first time since mandatory music class in middle school, Felix was profoundly glad he had been forced into piano lessons as a kid. Thank god for these fingers. It was all worth it to be able to make this kind of music.

“Fuck, you’re such a good slut,” Felix moaned when he couldn’t resist anymore, kissing Sylvain’s stomach as he did so. Sylvain’s whole body shivered into him. Felix moaned, mind going hazy as he kept pumping his fingers into Sylvain.

“Ah, ah, I’m close again—”

“Good boy.” Felix went still, a soft whine escaping Sylvain as he did so. He could feel Sylvain’s chest rise and fall with the sound under the hand pinning him in place. His dick and Sylvain’s body seemed to throb in demanding, torturous unison.

God, he could keep doing this forever. And he nearly did.

He soon got Sylvain to the edge a third time as he felt Sylvain clench tight from the slick heat around his fingers. He backed off again, breathing heavy. “Goddamn,” he murmured in awe. “Not as loose as I thought.” Sylvain’s whines just made him burn with even more energy inside.

“Felix, I’m so close, please, please—” Sylvain bucked his hips in frustration. With his hand still spread on Sylvain’s chest, Felix pressed his elbow down against Sylvain’s hipbone, and Sylvain fell still except for the heaving of his chest as he panted.

“God, you’re awful,” Sylvain said as he squirmed waiting for Felix to resume.

“Thanks.”

Felix fucked Sylvain with his fingers even slower the next time, repeatedly pulling out entirely before driving his fingers inside again. The tension was insane; the slick sound combined with Sylvain’s wounded moans drove him so crazy that he nearly forgot to stop in time. He had to squeeze the base of Sylvain’s cock for a long minute before he could be sure Sylvain wouldn’t come instantly when he moved his fingers next. It meant removing his hand from pressing Sylvain’s chest down, but Sylvain made no move to free his arms.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Felix reminded him.

“I’m close,” Sylvain said immediately. “Or I—I don’t know—I feel so close, I can’t tell—” He made a choked sound as Felix pushed his fingers as deep as he could and rubbed hard at the slick inner wall. “Ah, ah, ah, I’m close, god, I’m _right fucking there_ —”

Felix trailed one finger up the side of his cock.

Sylvain trembled violently, and then gasped and came, cock jumping against his stomach and hips bucking wildly. His hole clamped and pulsed around Felix’s fingers, and it was so fucking hot that Felix thought he might pass out from the sight of it. His heart thundered throughout his whole body and he was honestly shocked he didn’t come on the spot.

And after all the buildup, the orgasm lasted supernaturally long. Felix watched Sylvain gasp and shake in hair-raising slow motion, crying his name into the back of his hand. Sylvain’s face was so incredibly expressive, eyes shut in bliss.

Sylvain panted while the orgasm continued rolling through his body, making his muscles tense and relax in a hypnotic cycle. Then he lay completely still except for the heaving of his chest, which gradually slowed to a steady rise and fall.

Felix thought that he might never be able to adequately describe how intoxicating an experience it was just to watch. He could imagine exactly what Sylvain was feeling as he caught his breath: The sudden sweetness of oxygen. The pounding, heady rush. The stillness. And it was almost better than experiencing it himself because he got to watch the prolonged pleasure on Sylvain’s face.

Sylvain’s eyes remained softly shut for a long moment, as if in sleep. Just when Felix started to wonder if Sylvain really could have fallen asleep with two fingers still inside him, Sylvain’s eyes fluttered lazily open. “Wow,” he said.

Felix’s ego inflated at the praise. It wasn’t the only thing, either—how could he _not_ be turned on when Sylvain looked so fucking amazing? It should’ve been illegal, or at least impossible, to look so cute and so debauched at the same time. Sylvain really did look like he’d just stirred from slumber, apart from the glazed, fucked out look on his face.

In that moment of quiet, Felix realized he _really_ liked making Sylvain come like that. Getting to see the unguarded way Sylvain looked at him while freshly fuck-drunk and satisfied.

“Are you…up for another round?” Felix asked cautiously. Because god, seeing Sylvain sweaty and shaking and panting like he was running while laying underneath him was really doing something to Felix on a metaphysical level.

Sylvain let his head turn languidly on the pillow and said, “Ah, I dunno. I could go either way.”

“Hmm. Would you… be willing to try?”

Sylvain looked skeptical.

“You don’t have to come again,” Felix quickly added. “I just... liked making you feel good. So I just thought that if it still felt good...” Felix had been staying completely still, but he started slowly withdrawing his fingers.

Sylvain caught his hand and held it in place. “Yeah,” he said quietly, voice gone dry from how long he'd been panting in the warm bedroom air. “Yeah, it does still feel good.”

“Is that a yes, then?” Felix could see that Sylvain’s eyes were pleading with him, though he didn’t know what they were pleading for.

“You promise you won’t edge me this time?”

“You don’t want me to?” Felix asked with a sly grin.

Sylvain glared at him, but he looked too relaxed and blissed out for it to have any effect on his face other than a cute pout. “I’m flattered, but no. It was fun once, but not twice in a row.”

“Yeah, then. I promise.”

Sylvain looked at him discerningly for a moment. “Okay,” he finally said. “Just… be gentle with me?” He must have mistaken the look of adoration Felix gave him for one of pity, because he said, “Oh my god, don’t give me that look! I’m just a bit oversensitive right now!”

“Don’t worry, I can be gentle,” Felix said. He never had been before, but Sylvain was someone worth being gentle for.

Sylvain eyed him dubiously, and then unfolded for him, letting his arms come to rest over his head and his legs fall slightly further open. “Okay. I’m trusting you.” Felix felt butterflies again. Maybe this time was different than all the times Sylvain had helplessly stumbled into sex like the horny wreck that he was. All of those times, Sylvain had simply been unable to resist his body’s hunger. But now, even with his body sated, he had thought about it and decided he wanted Felix touching him anyway.

Felix couldn’t resist slipping his fingers out and climbing up to straddle Sylvain, placing his knees wide on either side of Sylvain’s waist. He pulled off his shirt. Then he lowered himself onto one elbow to bring his face to Sylvain’s and kiss him on the mouth. As loving and warm and soft as he knew how.

Sylvain responded beautifully, tilting his chin so their mouths could lock together just so, lips moving gently. He grasped Felix’s head and neck to pull him down and arched his back up so the soft skin of their stomachs brushed together.

The sensation lit a fire in Felix that encouraged him to press fully down onto Sylvain, fitting the whole length of their torsos together. He felt Sylvain quiver underneath him.

He wiggled out of Sylvain’s arms to refocus between his legs. Then an idea struck him. An idea that turned him on so much he could barely stand it. He lay down on his stomach, spread Sylvain with one hand, and flicked his tongue at Sylvain’s entrance.

Sylvain’s breath hitched, and Felix knew he wasn’t the only one having a reaction to it. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh Felix, oh god—” Felix flicked at it again, tasting the salted caramel lube. It wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. The lube coated his tongue, sticky and silky, sweet and vaguely plasticky, but it was worth it to feel his tongue dip into Sylvain’s puckered ring, so pink and hot and soft.

He dug the pointed tip of his tongue into Sylvain and moaned as he heard Sylvain gasp in response. Sylvain canted his hips up, the angle allowing Felix to push his tongue a little deeper.

Felix hummed with satisfaction, tongue up Sylvain’s ass, licking just inside the firm ring of muscle. Felix felt some tiny muscle fluttering under his hand where he gripped Sylvain’s ass, thumbing him apart. He felt Sylvain tighten around his tongue and lost whatever semblance of control he’d been holding onto. He placed the O of his mouth over the smaller O of Sylvain’s hole and licked him open like he was kissing him.

“Holy hell,” Sylvain panted. “Holy shit, holy fuck, Felix, how are you even—” He broke off into a moan like a cry.

Felix squeezed a little harder with his hands, spreading Sylvain open with the thumbs on either side of his reddened hole. He licked up the little bubbles of lube that his fingers had frothed into being, and then thrust back in, pressing Sylvain relentlessly open with his tongue. He kept lapping at Sylvain, licking up the obscene amount of lube he had used back when he had been _worried_ about this, about hurting Sylvain or being able to please him.

No such problem anymore. He wondered if Sylvain could feel him smiling as he tried to get deeper, feeling around inside with his tongue. “Mmm, need it deeper,” Sylvain whined as he twisted on the sheets.

Felix wordlessly replaced his mouth with his fingers again, slipping two into the heat of his body. And just from the way Sylvain writhed and groaned, he knew that was an acceptable solution.

Felix tried to wiggle his tongue in alongside his fingers, which became even more difficult as Sylvain shook in response. He spread the fingers as he pulled them back slightly, holding Sylvain open to stick his tongue into the space between his fingers.

“Fuck, _fuck_ — _please,_ Felix! I already held out for you once—”

“You did. You did so well.” Felix pulled his fingers out momentarily to swipe up some of the come on Sylvain’s stomach and shove that into his hole as well.

Next time he wanted it to be his come leaking out of Sylvain.

Felix heard himself actually growl, gut aching from his own neglect as his hips rocked into the bed on instinct. “Sylvain,” he panted, “I think you could make me come just from this.”

He heard Sylvain suck in a breath and let it out laughing, followed by the words, “That’s my line.”

“Then do it.” Sylvain’s cock was swollen and heavy as Felix soothed it with slow, intentional licks. “Come.”

And Sylvain did, _again_ , sounding even better than the first time, moaning, body undulating in a way that could never be faked. Felix’s head went fuzzy at the feeling of Sylvain coming around his fingers. It was overwhelming. It drove him fucking crazy.

When Felix finally slid his fingers out, the pads of his fingers were pruney and puckered like the skin of a raisin, as if he’d stayed in the bath too long. He could only imagine how their texture must have felt rubbing inside Sylvain. He finished himself off with that hand, coming onto Sylvain’s stomach again, layering his spend over Sylvain’s before cleaning him off.

“What... what time is it?” Sylvain asked blearily, his voice still breathy and rough in a way Felix adored.

Felix checked his phone. “Uh, about 1:30am.”

“Holy shit,” Sylvain laughed hoarsely. “That’s... how many hours?”

“Who fucking knows?” Felix said, laughing too. “That was so worth it.”

“Yeah, it was. And... the taste? It didn’t bother you?”

“Oh, you know,” Felix said, shrugging casually. “Tastes like ass.”

“I… I don’t know what else I expected.”

“Yeah, I also don’t know what you expected.”

“Oh, get up here, you,” Sylvain said, grinning at him and pulling him up with his hands around Felix’s waist. And fuck, having Sylvain move him around always made Felix a bit lightheaded.

“Wait!” Felix yelped as Sylvain maneuvered him to lie chest to chest on top of him.

“What is it?”

“You—you shouldn’t want to kiss me after what I’ve just done,” Felix mumbled, pushing himself up onto all fours. His face burned as the realization caught up to him.

“Mmm,” Sylvain hummed in agreement, “but I do.” He lifted his head off the pillow to catch Felix’s mouth with his own.

It must have been a fetish, or some kind of kink thing. But Felix couldn’t deny how much it made him feel wanted, even if it wasn’t for the reasons he wanted. He realized he had missed kissing Sylvain. He hadn’t done it enough today.

His mouth was kinda tired, but Sylvain was smiling too hard to kiss properly anyway.

Felix moved to lay on his side facing Sylvain, and Sylvain blinked slowly back at him, one eye half hidden in the pillow.

“So which did you like better—fingering me, or sucking me off?”

“Fingering,” Felix said without hesitation.

Sylvain laughed delightedly. “Felix, I cannot tell you how tremendously funny that is.”

“Why is that funny?”

“Even during sex, you hate using your mouth.”

Felix shot him an indignant look. “I _did_ use my mouth.”

“Mostly just tongue.”

“My jaw did start hurting about halfway through, actually,” Felix added just for the sake of complaining. His voice was even a bit raspy from earlier, though it sounded nothing like the gritty quality his cold had given his voice the week before. So much for the so-called blowjob voice.

Sylvain just laughed and kissed his mouth. “Does that help?”

“Not one bit,” Felix said before kissing him back.

“Well, it was very brave of you to persevere anyway.”

“I’ll get better at it!” Felix said, and then wondered what had possessed him to admit to his own ineptitude.

“You don’t have to get better! That was... really great already.” Sylvain looked a little sheepish. “Besides, my tongue kinda gets tired when I suck you off, too.”

“And yet you still don’t shut up afterwards.”

“Wow. Every time I try to be nice to you, you just have to throw it back in my face, don’t you?”

“Of course. It’s in the job description.”

Thankfully, Sylvain didn’t ask what job he was referring to. Sylvain just smiled softly and said, “Hey, can we sleep in just our underwear tonight?”

Felix’s heart glowed. Maybe Sylvain had just been too warm at night. Maybe tomorrow morning, Felix would wake up in his arms. “Yeah,” he said. He would do anything for that.

And after fetching Sylvain a clean pair of underwear, Felix lay with his back to Sylvain, hooking their legs together and letting Sylvain kiss the back of his neck.

With one finger, Sylvain started tracing small, puzzling patterns on Felix’s back. Lines and circles, and angles and spirals. Occult sigils, maybe? No. Letters. “Are you… writing on me?”

“Ah. You’ve caught me.” Sylvain’s fingertip left his back.

“Was that a Y just now?”

“Yeah. But I was already in the middle of a word.”

“Start it over, then.” Felix closed his eyes and tried to visualize the sensation of Sylvain’s finger tracing glowing letters like a sparkler against the swirling, dark backdrop of his eyelids. H. E. L. L. O.

He realized Sylvain was done writing. “Hello.”

“Hey there, sweet thing,” Sylvain responded in his smoothest voice, cocky as could be.

“Oh, you—” Felix crossed his arms, and then felt silly because they were already spooning, which rendered all attempts at closed-off body language ineffective.

Sylvain’s finger started drawing on his back again. O—no, actually, Q. Sylvain paused between letters for the sake of clarity and then wrote T.

Then nothing.

Q. T. …?

Oh. “You can say it aloud if you want me to kick you,” Felix said, amused in spite of himself.

“Cutie—” Felix kicked him as promised. “—and your violence just makes you cuter!” Sylvain cooed.

“There’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“Yep! You’ll have to be more specific.”

“But really,” Felix said, looking over his shoulder to see Sylvain’s face, “why do you always call me ‘cute’ or ‘adorable’ during sex?”

“Oh.” Sylvain averted his eyes and carded a hand through his hair. A nervous gesture of his. “I guess it feels easier to say cute and adorable than hot and fuckable? Like, more respectful or something.”

Oh god. That made every time Sylvain had praised him run through Felix’s mind. He replaced the words in his memories and heard them anew in Sylvain’s voice—whispering “so fucking hot” in his ear, or gazing hungrily at him and saying “you’re so fuckable”—

Felix stopped that line of thinking before he got turned on again. “Well, I'm sorry I didn’t end up actually fucking you tonight.”

“Dude, are you kidding?” laughed Sylvain. “You fucked the shit out of me.”

“So, you’re satisfied?” Felix checked.

“God, yes. I think satisfied is an understatement.”

“Good,” Felix said, kissing him on the nose. “Me too.” Then Felix curled up in Sylvain’s arms again, holding his hands over Sylvain’s hands and interlacing their fingers, pulling Sylvain’s arms even tighter around himself like he’d die without the warmth of Sylvain’s body at his back. “I like talking with you,” he added, too drowsy to think twice about it. “We should add that to the cuddling.”

”I’d like that too.”

Felix fell asleep wishing he could stay awake to not miss a single second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit sexual content. I think that's it for this one!
> 
> Also I'll admit I barely proofread this, so if there's anything that's written like "oh and then one of them goes like," please let me know and I will fix it when I'm more awake.
> 
> (And thank you all for the many supportive comments on the last chapter <3 <3 <3 )


	28. unmasked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday, May 13th. Sylvain is convinced Felix can see right through him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings in end notes! Please check them if you know me in real life.

The first thing Sylvain noticed when he woke up was that his left arm was asleep. It was under the pillow, under Felix’s head—

Felix was still in his arms. Sylvain sighed with happiness and kept his eyes closed, breathing in the scent of Felix’s hair. He snuggled in closer, feeling like he could die happy right here, right now. It was the best morning of his life, and it was only Wednesday.

Wednesday.

With a jolt, Sylvain remembered the one class he still had to attend. God fucking dammit, of all the mornings to have to go to English class—

He removed himself from bed as gently as he could to avoid waking Felix, though it pained him to separate from Felix’s sleeping form. He tucked the covers in around Felix, then quietly got dressed and scurried from the room to set up his laptop in the living room.

This particular English class was, in Sylvain’s mind, dominated by two purple-haired people who demonstrated the polar opposites of the English major spectrum. First, there was sweet, reclusive, brilliant Bernadetta, who said very little but whose writing was magnificent. And then there was Lorenz, who postured magnificence but whose writing said very little.

Lorenz was exactly as obnoxious as one would expect a Business and English double major to be. If you asked Sylvain, it made no sense for someone to major in both Business and English; the belief systems behind the two fields of study were entirely antithetical to each other. But then again, Lorenz was a walking oxymoron of a man. Emphasis on moron.

Sylvain managed to stay zoned out for most of the class, preferring to mentally stay in bed with Felix rather than listen to people reading sections of their short stories—which was fine, since most of the class was catatonic at 9am anyway. Sylvain read a bit of his own story as required, but even then he was remembering Felix reading it on the roof with him. Had that really been less than ten days ago?

He only really tuned back in for Bernadetta.

Sylvain had been lucky enough to be Bernadetta’s peer-reviewer, and he had found hardly anything to critique. She'd written a brilliant story about magic that could only be done cooperatively, where the magic system was a commentary on how children could be isolated, controlled, and used by their parents to never realize the power they possessed. Daughters, in particular, were taught that they could only serve as magical anchors for others, and were never given the partnership or support they needed to work magic of their own.

And now he was _forced_ to tune back in for it, because Lorenz was giving utterly terrible feedback on it.

“Well, I thought that was remarkable!” Lorenz said as soon as Bernadetta finished stuttering her way through her piece. “You really captured the feelings of a talented young person caught in the trappings of familial affection and her sense of duty.”

“Wh-what?” Bernadetta sputtered. “That’s not what I—it’s about—about learned helplessness—”

“Of course, it’s also a poignant example of how people are, ahem, ‘forming pairs’ right now out of loneliness and convenience,” Lorenz went on, demonstrating that he had completely missed the point of her writing.

“No! I-it’s about patriarchal family structures, and—and that people steal the heroine’s abilities by isolating her and convincing her that she’s—”

“Yes, yes, the sense of isolation is very timely! And the ending really gives one the sense that she will have to work hard for her magic to live up to her new husband’s expectations, given that he did not really _choose_ her as much as _inherit_ her from her father…”

Bernadetta looked like she was about to cry. “But that scene wasn’t the end of it… a-and I wrote this before the pandemic, so it really isn’t—”

Sylvain unmuted himself and chimed in before Lorenz had another chance to. “I definitely didn’t think it was about that,” he said, “since at the end the heroine learns to believe in her own ability to do magic again with the help of her childhood friend. I thought it was really empowering! And it really validated the importance of relationships that exist outside the legal constructs of guardianship and marriage.”

“Y-you think so? I mean, I’m—” Bernadetta still looked like she wanted to cry, but at least now it seemed to be out of relief or overwhelmed embarrassment.

And then the professor realized they had gone over time, and the class suddenly ended. At least it had hopefully added on a good note for poor Bernadetta.

But Lorenz’s terrible take on her story had stirred something in Sylvain, too. He was suddenly thinking of Felix again—specifically, thinking _oh shit, I seriously love Felix, and he’s just doing this because we’re stuck together_.

But surely that was just an intrusive thought, right? He pushed it away and shut his laptop, resolving to put it out of his mind.

He crept back into the bedroom. And there, in his bed like a miracle, was Felix, slowly stirring. “Mmm, good morning,” Felix said, blinking himself awake.

“Hey, handsome,” Sylvain said quietly. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just going to come back to bed.”

“Come back to bed, then,” Felix said, reaching out both arms for him.

“I’m already dressed in normal people clothes, though…”

“You can take them off.” Felix twisted adorably under the covers for a second—

And then kicked his underwear out of the side of the bed.

Heat stirred in Sylvain’s belly.

Felix took his hand and effortlessly drew him into bed, and Sylvain let himself be lured in without any resistance, tumbling into bed still dressed. He kissed Felix, and they met each other tongue-first, open-mouthed, kissing hot and slow. Felix’s hands started roaming over him at the same time as Sylvain pulled away from the kiss, tossing back the blankets to see Felix’s bare body shiver underneath him.

A strong wave of affection rushed through Sylvain, tingling in his fingers, and lips, and the insides of his thighs. He wanted to feel Felix’s skin in all those places. He started shedding his clothes without hesitation. Felix’s hands caressed and pinched and rubbed at his waist and chest through his shirt as Sylvain pulled off his pants and underwear—and then he didn’t even bother to finish undressing, because kissing Felix was the only thing that mattered.

The bedroom felt like a different place in the daytime. Sylvain had never really had sex in the daytime before this week—well, besides a hushed quickie in the secluded nook of the library, though that had just been his hand shoved down a girl’s pants until she came. Oh, and that one hurried bathroom blowjob. And the one time he—actually, never mind.

The point was that he’d never had a relationship last long enough to spend a day naked in bed together, making love. (Was that what they were doing now? Making love?)

He loved being able to see all of Felix in the light of day. Sunlight brought every inch of Felix to life in vibrant technicolor, letting Sylvain appreciate the pink flush and blue veins and golden undertones in his skin, watch its matte surface grow dewy with sweat.

(Of course, Sylvain still wished he could go back in time and have that quickie in the library with Felix, too. Felix would’ve looked so cute trying to keep his voice down amid the stacks.)

As Sylvain settled on top of Felix’s lap and raised his arms to pull his shirt off by the collar, Felix said, “Wait,” and lifted the hem of Sylvain’s shirt up from the bottom. He stuffed it into Sylvain’s mouth. “You’ll hold this up for me, won’t you?” Sylvain could only nod and moan as Felix’s hands ran up his chest. The moan came out stifled as he bit down on the fabric.

Then Felix dug the sharp edge of a fingernail into the very center of Sylvain’s nipple with devastating precision. Far from being painful, it was _extremely_ enjoyable—almost ticklish, almost pins and needles. Psychologically speaking, it felt having the edge of a knife held to him, but physically? Physically, it was more like injecting liquid fire. A muffled “Ngh!” escaped Sylvain as he quaked with the unexpected pleasure.

Felix grinned lazily at his reaction. While Felix’s thumb and middle finger pinched his areola to make the round tip of his nipple stand out as much as possible, Felix lightly scratched down the nipple’s tiny flat surface with the same careful fingernail. The blunt, rounded blade of his nail scraped gently over the barely perceptible bumps on the sensitive, pinkish-brown skin. Sylvain moaned into the saliva-soaked gag of his shirt as if Felix were rubbing his cock.

Sylvain would have never even known to try this, either on his own nipples or someone else’s—much less known that they could be almost as sensitive as his dick if touched just right. But god, Felix _was_ touching him just right, his nail slowly scraping back and forth across the small circular nub of his nipple. It created an icy-hot tingling that rushed straight to the base of Sylvain’s spine. Everything about it was so purely _Felix_ : precise, unpredictable, euphoric.

It was an entirely different experience from how Sylvain had had sex before. He used to try to turn off his brain, make it go quiet and just focus on the physical sensations, but now his mind was alive, awake, and attributing meaning and beauty to every touch. His body was just the conductor of electricity, and Felix’s strong hands and dark eyes poured sparks into him, into something deeper than just his body. Felix’s hands explored him every time like it was the first time, as if he knew that Sylvain felt every touch brush his soul.

Felix plucked roughly at his nipple. And did it again, twisting and tugging on it until it sprang free from between his fingers. Sylvain groaned and finally pulled his shirt the rest of the way off, needing his mouth to be free again to express to Felix how much he loved this.

He reciprocated by leaning down to kiss Felix’s neck, stroking Felix’s chest with his hands. He closed his eyes and lost his mind at feeling Felix’s nipples already hard under his palms, their rubbery skin catching and rolling as he skimmed over them.

Felix moaned. “Sylvain, I—I like that—”

Of course, Sylvain knew that Felix was self-conscious—though it seemed unfathomable, because Felix was gorgeous—so he didn’t pay Felix’s chest _too_ much attention. He never brought his face too close to those deep pink nipples, never kissed them the way he wanted to. But even so, Sylvain’s guiltiest pleasure was looking at them, feeling them, how they hardened before he even touched them when Felix was aroused—

“Sylvain.” Felix pulled his hair, dragging Sylvain’s mouth off his neck. Felix was blushing vividly—whether from embarrassment or arousal or both. Even splashed with sunlight, Felix’s eyes were dark as he looked pointedly down at his chest, and then at Sylvain’s face again. “Just fucking kiss them already,” he said. “I know you want to.”

Of course Felix had figured it out.

Sylvain moved further down Felix’s body and started licking Felix’s chest—no sucking or biting, just holding Felix’s ribs with both hands and kissing his skin, stroking Felix’s nipples with his tongue, rubbing them between his lips until Felix was whining and rocking up against his stomach.

Sylvain closed his eyes and licked him even more gently in response, teasing gasps and frustrated little sounds out of him. Sylvain wanted to love Felix in a way that was purely _him—_ playful, wholehearted. He wanted to be softer and warmer than Felix could have ever imagined.

“Felix,” Sylvain murmured against his chest. “I still want you to fuck me.”

Felix looked down at him, panting. “Are you sure?”

“ _God,_ yes.” Sylvain was beyond certain. When had he ever not been certain about Felix? “Please, Felix,” he whined, nuzzling his nose into Felix’s neck. “It’ll feel so good. I’ll make it so good for you.”

“I wish I had your absolutely unfounded confidence,” Felix said with a little chuckle that made Sylvain’s heart race.

Sylvain couldn’t resist surging up to kiss his lips again, grasping Felix’s lower lip between his teeth and giving it a little tug in the way he knew Felix liked. He sucked and laved his tongue over it when Felix moaned.

“Want me—that badly—huh?” Felix panted between kissing him back, his face flushed and his lips slick and puffy from kissing.

“Fuck yes—want you to fill me up—want everything—wanted it since we first kissed—a whole fucking year ago.”

“Okay. I’ll be gentle,” Felix said.

As if that were even a concern.

They somehow managed to fish the lube out of the nightstand while still tangled up together, languidly grinding all the while. Sylvain nipped little love-marks up the side of Felix’s neck while Felix fumbled with the lube.

Then Felix’s fingers were poised under Sylvain, braced on Felix’s thigh, wet and waiting for Sylvain to push back onto them. He did, though it hardly seemed necessary. Sylvain still felt so stretched and slick from the night before—defenselessly open, like no matter how tight he clenched, Felix would be able to slip inside him with ease.

And then he was lifting off Felix’s fingers, giving Felix a second to slick up his cock before positioning himself over it, murmuring, “Want you, Felix.” The head of Felix’s cock kissed his hole, promising to be bigger than he could handle. He moaned and ground down on it. “I really, really want you—” He felt Felix’s tip breach his body.

Sylvain had thought he knew how big Felix’s cock was, having seen it and held it and sucked it. But as Felix pushed into him, he felt like he must not have known after all.

It had felt very proportional in his hands and mouth, about the same size as his own, but now the sensation of fullness from the girth alone far surpassed anything Sylvain had expected from Felix’s smooth, curved length. It was a stark reminder that up until this point, all he’d had inside him was two fingers, a bit of tongue, and one skinny little dildo.

His mental perception of Felix’s cock was ridiculously magnified by the stretch, and he was forcefully reminded of the somatosensory map from his psychology textbook, which had shown—via a fucked up illustration of the human body—how the brain dedicated disproportionate attention to sensing touch and temperature in the mouth and hands—

But oh dear god, it apparently neglected to mention the fucking asshole. It hadn’t mentioned the inside of the body at all.

Yet Sylvain felt like the inside of his body must contain ten times more nerves than the whole surface of his skin. He felt waves of heat rolling through him, through muscle, and solid bone, and all the miscellaneous viscera that made up his body.

The feeling washed over him with a strange, vibrational power that made his body shudder and go limp. But it wasn’t pain. The stretch was savage, and luxurious, and amazing. Even just the tip of Felix’s cock felt so gratifyingly solid, so round and unyielding inside of him. Fingers just weren’t the same thing.

“Fuck, you’re so big.”

Felix scoffed underneath him. “No need for flattery. I’m not even all the way in.”

The mere thought of it made Sylvain dizzy with desire. “It’s not flattery,” he said desperately, “you just feel—ah—so fucking big inside me—”

Felix pushed another inch into him.

“Fuck!” Sylvain swore vehemently. “I’m serious! Jesus Christ, just give me a second!”

“Sorry!” Felix said. “I—I didn’t mean to do that—”

The idea that Felix couldn’t resist fucking into him made Sylvain almost as overwhelmed as all the physical sensation competing for his attention. “Oh my god, oh my fucking god—”

“Is it bad?” Felix asked. “Should we stop?”

“No. It’s not bad, it’s just… a lot. Just gimme a second.”

Felix managed to stay still this time. Well, every bit of him except his mouth. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” Felix growled under his breath.

The floor of Sylvain’s stomach dropped out and spilled heat into the basement of his body. He let out a low whine, bewildered by the depth of the feeling. _You’re so wet_ was something Sylvain had said to girls before, but it had never affected him half as much as this. It was like he hadn’t understood the true shape of the words until Felix was saying it about him.

And Felix looked so fucking incredible underneath him, too, the blush rising so high on his body that Sylvain could see it glow in the tops of his shoulders. Felix gasped as Sylvain made hazy eye contact with him, and the blush on his chest deepened so much that Sylvain imagined Felix’s whole body must have been burning hot as a forge inside, just like his own.

And just like that, he was ready. “You—you can move now.”

Felix did, working his cock the rest of the way into Sylvain with nothing but the slow grinding motion of his hips. A gentle _in_ and _out_ , rolling like a tide, where the _in_ was just a little deeper every time.

Sylvain exhaled and let himself slide further down onto Felix’s cock. “H-how is it for you?” he asked shakily.

Felix panted underneath him. “Can I say something that… you might not like?”

“Um, yeah?”

“It feels like you were made for me.”

Oh. Call him a romantic, but he had never really known what effect those words were supposed to have until now, either. “I like that,” Sylvain confessed, chills rippling through him. “Oh, fuck, I really like that. Oh, Felix.”

Felix’s thumbs pressed slightly into his stomach where he gripped Sylvain’s hips. Sylvain imagined those thumbs pressing hard enough to rub on either side of the cock inside of him. It was almost humiliating how hot it made him.

“Fuck me, Fe. I’m ready.”

The grip on his hips tightened. “Grind,” said Felix. “Grind down on me. I’m not fucking you until you’ve shown me just how deep you want it.” Sylvain almost wanted to resist, put up a little fight just for the sheer brattiness of it. But he wanted to feel Felix moving in him so badly. He ached with the desire.

So he ground his hips down in a small circular movement, whimpering at the way it made Felix’s cock shift and rub inside him, sliding deeper. Deeper, into a place Sylvain had certainly never reached in himself before. Sylvain decided he liked this ache. He liked this ache as much as any other.

It was crazy how much he could feel. He could close his eyes and nearly visualize the shape of Felix’s cockhead from how it ground against his walls—and yet he couldn’t quite visualize it clearly, because the sensation made his head go all fuzzy thinking _Felix, Felix is inside of me, that’s Felix I can feel inside of me._

He couldn’t help a groan as he repeated the movement, rocking his hips in that slow circle even though it wasn’t enough friction—or maybe _because_ it wasn’t enough friction. He wanted more, wanted to know that it was _Felix_ pushing into him, hard and deep.

He wiggled his hips, desperate for sensation, wanting to feel the very base of Felix’s cock against his stretched wet rim. Wanting to slide all the way down to Felix’s pubic bone. He tensed his stomach, bearing down with his muscles to try to get it impossibly deeper into him. Felix’s pubic hair felt soft and slick and excellent against his sensitive skin.

“Come on, Felix! This is as deep as it’ll go—”

Apparently that was enough for Felix, who finally started moving in time with him. Sylvain, suddenly not in sole control of the movement, found he liked splitting the responsibility for it half and half. It added up to something more than he could do alone.

It was different when he wasn’t in control of what was inside him. It was different when it was someone he loved.

“I didn’t know it could be like this,” Sylvain confessed. “I’ve never been with anyone like this before.”

“I know,” Felix said breathlessly. “You told me last night.”

Had he?

Then the slick sensation of Felix pulling slightly out and shoving back in had Sylvain groaning, tipping his face to the ceiling. “Oh, Fe. You feel so right inside me.” Sylvain didn’t even realize he was saying it aloud until he heard his own voice, indulgent and raw in a way he’d never heard it before.

“I want you on your back,” Felix said suddenly.

Sylvain nodded fervently, too full of feeling to speak. He clutched at Felix’s shoulders and rolled them both to the other side of the bed, flipping Felix on top. Felix’s cock slid out with a soft, wet sound. Sylvain moaned at the mere sight of it, slick and stiff and swaying between his legs. “Felix, please—” He wrapped his legs around Felix and tilted his hips to let Felix fuck him into the earth. Felix thrust back in.

 _There._ The sparks burst behind Sylvain’s eyelids. “There,” he gasped low in his chest while he shook. “There, there, there—”

“I’ve got you,” Felix said, his voice raspy with arousal. “Heard you the first time.” It sounded like Felix would have chuckled if he’d been anything less than rock hard inside of Sylvain. “You feel so warm, Sylvain,” he whispered like a secret. Sylvain dug his fingers into Felix’s back, probably leaving angry red trails from his nails as he clung to Felix like life itself.

Sylvain pulled himself up enough to latch onto one of Felix’s nipples, needing something to suck on as Felix’s cock slid through him. And then some kind of wires must have crossed in Sylvain’s head, because it felt like Felix was inside him in two places instead of one, like Felix was fucking his mouth, too. Or like Sylvain was sucking Felix’s chest and cock at the same time.

He fell back onto the bed with a desperate gasp, too overwhelmed with sensation to do anything but toss his head and incoherently beg, “Harder, and slower, and—oh, oh—”

Felix’s cock started to draw back. Sylvain whimpered as his body clung to it, not want to let him go. Then Felix snapped his hips forward.

It was fucking _fantastic_. Felix somehow knew to stay seated at the deepest point in Sylvain for a bare second, pressed at his prostate—before slowly pulling back, letting Sylvain’s body collapse in his absence and adjust just enough to miss him—before sliding back in, prying him open anew. “Perfect, Felix, just like that—that’s just what I want—” Each thrust was a fucking shockwave all on its own, and the sight of Felix above him—mouth slack, breathing ragged, a drop of sweat rolling down his neck—

 _This_ was what it meant for someone to be breathtaking.

Little breathy sounds escaped Sylvain in time with the thrusts, as if Felix’s cock was deep enough to hit his lungs, pushing the air out of him. “So good, oh Felix, oh...” Another thrust, another punched-out moan. It nearly pushed tears to his eyes, too. And it would’ve made perfect sense that having Felix inside him would be the thing to make him cry—

Until he felt drool leak from one corner of his lips. Drooling. Not crying. He wondered how he could have possibly confused the sensations for one another.

As he neared his peak, Sylvain felt his chest ache with neglect. He looked down with a low groan to find that his nipples were hard and tight of their own accord, as though Felix had taught his body how to perform this trick earlier and his body wanted to show Felix that it remembered and was straining toward him in every way it knew how.

Where were Felix’s hands? Sylvain could barely keep track, but he thought he could feel them gripping his hips, and grasping his legs, and sweeping back his hair from his face, as if time didn’t exist and it was all happening simultaneously.

But he needed them on his heart. “Felix,” he whined desperately, “I need you to do something to my chest again—anything—it _hurts_ without you.”

Felix flattened his hands against Sylvain’s chest, massaging out the soreness with the heels of his hands. Sylvain whimpered in relief as Felix rubbed his hands in circles over each side of his chest, squeezing gently. “I’m not going to last much longer,” Felix said, panting with exertion.

“Please, Felix. Let me come on your cock,” Sylvain begged, because for some reason he couldn’t bear to move a hand away from clawing Felix’s arms, not even to touch himself. Or maybe he didn’t want to touch himself. He needed _Felix_ to make him come.

“Come, Sylvain,” Felix urged him, shoving in deep. “Come.”

It felt so good to have permission.

Sylvain came untouched onto his own stomach, and it felt like fire licking through his body, so shockingly good and intense that it was nearly painful. He felt like he should have been howling like an animal from the sensation, but all that came out of him was a breathy, blissed-out moan. Felix’s thrusts started to turn gentle as Sylvain rode out the orgasm. “No, don’t stop—want you to come, too.”

And as Sylvain’s body clenched and spasmed for the last time, he felt Felix come inside him, gasping sweetly.

As they both came down from the high, Felix collapsed forward to kiss Sylvain like a man possessed, cupping his face and murmuring hushed words Sylvain was just barely able to comprehend: “Holy shit, you’re amazing.”

And for once, Sylvain loved his stupid, slutty, insatiable body for allowing him to hear those words from Felix’s lips. He would memorize the sound of them and forget about the context, if only to pretend that Felix thought he was amazing for more than just his ability to come untouched.

And he kissed Felix back in kind—abandoning all technique he knew, not even thinking about if he was doing it _right,_ because loving Felix had always meant unlearning everything and inventing something new. He kissed Felix with everything in him, because it was the only way his mouth knew how to say, _This is how much I love you_.

They remained tangled up together for a long time, slowly cooling down as Felix kissed Sylvain’s neck, more and more gently with each moment. Sylvain felt Felix go soft inside him before pulling out, and somehow that was miraculous too.

“Well, we just did that, huh?” Sylvain asked, still breathless.

“Yeah.” Felix pushed himself up on his hands again. “So, how do you feel?”

“You know that song that’s like, ‘I just had sex’?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” repeated Sylvain.

Felix shot him a look that was both bemused and pleased. Maybe even a little affectionate. Sylvain’s heart fluttered. “For real, though. How do you feel?”

“Hmm…” Sylvain stretched with a lazy grin. “Awesome sauce.”

“God, you’re the worst.” Felix gave him a little smack over his chest that made him laugh.

“The worst?! I’m the best you’ve ever had!”

“Yeah, you’re the _only_ I’ve ever had.” Before Sylvain could respond, Felix was laying down beside him, kissing his shoulder, urging Sylvain to lay on his side. He did, and Felix kissed down his spine.

Each kiss gave Sylvain a little zap that made something in him contract minutely, making him tremble and arch his back. The pleased hums Sylvain occasionally heard from behind told him that Felix was enjoying his reactions.

The kisses slowed and then fell away. He felt Felix’s forehead press against the section of spine between his shoulder blades for a brief moment before withdrawing. Then, with one finger, Felix traced a familiar line on the left side of his back, a line that nearly made Sylvain’s heart stop—

Until Felix’s finger suddenly veered off course and started drawing circles. No, not just circles—Felix was writing letters.

Without thinking, Sylvain said the most recent letter aloud: “D.”

Felix’s finger paused after the letter. “Ah. So you noticed.”

“Yeah. You can keep doing it, though.”

“I was in the middle of a word.”

“Well, start it over again!” Sylvain playfully demanded.

“Alright, alright.” Felix traced, and Sylvain spoke each letter aloud.

“B.”

His mind raced with the possibilities. _Beautiful? Be mine?_ No, wait, it had to have a D in it.

“A.”

 _Bad? Bastard?_ No, Felix had said that D was in the middle of the word, not at the end of it.

“B.”

Well, that severely constrained the possibilities… _Babadook?_

“Y.”

_Babydoll?_

Felix’s finger left his back. When it became clear nothing else was forthcoming, Sylvain asked, “Baby? Just baby?”

“Yeah. Just baby.”

“I don’t even mean this as innuendo, but that doesn’t have a D in it.”

With a little puff of laughter at his neck, Felix said, “Yep, that’s correct.” The softness of his voice and warmth of his breath made the sensitive bowstring in Sylvain’s back go taut at the gentle vibrations.

Sylvain made an embarrassing “eep” sound as his back arched without him meaning to. He decided to hope Felix wouldn’t comment on it. “Aww, please Felix? Can’t you just write it again?”

Felix feigned ignorance. “What? ‘Baby’?”

“No, whatever you were writing before!”

Felix didn’t answer, but his finger started tracing letters again.

Sylvain closed his eyes to focus on Felix’s fingertip on his skin. “F. U. C. K.” He slowly spelled aloud. He opened his eyes to laugh and say, “Fuck? You wanna fuck? We kinda just did.”

Felix said, “Oh, shush,” and kept writing.

“Y. O. U.” Sylvain laughed. “Me? You wanna fuck _me_?”

“No, I’m saying ‘fuck you,’ you stupid hoe,” Felix said, swatting him on the arm.

“That still didn’t have a D in it,” Sylvain complained.

“Neither did you, until today.”

“Wait, was that a dick joke? From _you_? I’m honored. Someone write this down.”

“Oh yeah, it’s a real knee-slapper,” Felix said sarcastically.

“I meant to record the date! Because really, that’s one for the history books: Felix’s first dick joke.”

“I don’t even know what the date is right now.”

“Yeah. Me neither. I think I knew when I woke up, but you fucked it right out of me.” Sylvain turned to face Felix and kiss him on the nose. Felix closed his eyes and let him.

“I think it’s May whatever-the-hell-th,” Felix said, smiling like he couldn’t resist doing so.

“I’m making a mental note right now,” Sylvain played along. “May whatever-the-hell-th: Felix’s first dick joke.”

“And Sylvain’s first real dicking,” Felix said slyly.

“Oh my gosh, that’s two in a row—” And then Felix was covering his mouth with his hand, rolling on top just to make Sylvain wrestle him back down again—

It felt like the best day of his life, and it was only noon.

After finally getting dressed and dragging themselves out of bed for a meal—which Sylvain called lunch and Felix insisted was breakfast—they decided to go on a walk.

“I wanna go for a walk,” Sylvain declared. “That’s still legal, right? I am literally so tired of living like a hermit.”

“You being tired of it doesn’t mean it’s over.”

“I know that! But we can go on a walk and be safe. We’ll wear masks and stay away from people.”

Felix shot him a funny, wry smile. “I feel like I did it wrong if you can still walk.”

Sylvain grinned when he realized what Felix was referring to. “Nah, I think that means you did it right.”

They pulled on their shoes for what felt like the first time in years, and Sylvain couldn’t stop smiling about it, because going out together felt like—well, like _going out together._

Once outside, Sylvain immediately had to retie his shoe. “Felix, wait!”

Of course, Felix kept walking, saying, “I’m sure you can catch up.”

Which was how Sylvain ended up behind Felix, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to submit to the indignity of running after him. Fuck him and his damnably long legs.

Felix’s ass was eye-catching in his skinny jeans. The sway of his hips with each step added to the androgynous appeal of his hair swinging at his back and his graceful hands brushing by his thighs. Sylvain felt wonderfully dirty for thinking it, watching Felix’s phone ride up and down in his back pocket as his ass moved with each step.

Except, wait, was Felix fucking _speed-walking_? Damn him and his fuckably long legs.

Eventually Sylvain resorted to using a crosswalk as an excuse to do a little undignified trot across the intersection. He elbowed Felix as he caught up. “Were you _trying_ to lose me?”

“Not really. Why? Did you get lost?”

“Oh, you’re such a dick,” Sylvain said.

Felix looked at him out of the corner of his eyes, mask hiding whether he was smiling or not. “I know you like a challenge,” he said before his eyes flicked away again. Sylvain’s heart tumbled over itself. How could one person be so... what’s the word? Fun? Infuriating? Lovable?

Perfectly matched to him in every way?

“And by the way, nice ‘white person half-jog across traffic’ thing you did there,” Felix added.

“Nothing escapes your notice, huh?”

In fact, Felix was hilariously jumpy as they walked, flinching away from joggers who appeared out of nowhere. Sylvain decided to commentate everything they saw, trying to make Felix laugh after every time he tensed up by pointing out people’s masks and saying, “Florals? For spring? Groundbreaking,” and “How much do you want to bet that person has a nose piercing?”

It was a dream-like state of happiness to be moving through the world with Felix at his side. Even though the world had seemed depressing the last time Sylvain went out, it seemed full of wonder now. Being in love made the sky clearer, the air sweeter, and the future something more tolerable.

They turned off the sidewalk onto a little wooded trail without either of them needing to say anything. And then, as the path dipped down by the little creek it ran parallel to, Sylvain found himself drawn to the water like a child, veering off into the underbrush. He ran down to the bank and whooped while Felix followed more cautiously behind.

“Felix, look!” Sylvain pointed at an arc of stepping stones leading across the creek.

Felix raised an eyebrow. “I know. I grew up half a mile from here, remember?”

Sylvain grinned. He stuck out his hand and said, “Here, hold this!” Felix grabbed his hand automatically, and then Sylvain was tugging Felix after him, hopping from rock to rock across the stream.

“Oh my god, you’re gonna make me fall!” Felix said, stumbling behind him.

“Well, as long as you take me down with you, no problem, right?” Felix grumbled something unintelligible in response, but when they got across, they didn’t drop hands.

They sat on a bench facing the creek. “We can take off the masks,” Sylvain observed. “No one else is around.” He took his off, grinning broadly at Felix. “See?”

“Showing your mouth in public? Whore.”

“Hey, speak for yourself, you little harlot,” Sylvain joked as Felix removed his own mask. “Oh my!” he cried, fake-swooning. “The indecency! A flash of lip!”

He loved seeing the reluctant smile that went along with Felix’s annoyed little sigh.

“Felix, I want to kiss you,” Sylvain said, his heart stuttering in his chest.

“Fine.” Felix pulled him in by the shirt.

And then they were kissing—outdoors, in broad daylight. There was something quiet about it. Peaceful. And it was scary, too, but it was what Sylvain wanted: to love Felix publicly, and let the world see that ice-cold bitch Felix Hugo Fraldarius melted just a little bit, just for him.

He couldn’t help feeling like this meant something. Like maybe their relationship could expand beyond the confines of his apartment, to be bigger than just the size of his bedroom and longer than the span of two weeks.

And then Felix broke the kiss. “Can we go before the mosquitoes eat me alive? I feel like I’m kicking bugs with every step.”

They turned back to go home when the sky started turning peach.

Despite wearing their masks again, people still gave them funny looks as they walked back. It didn’t bother Sylvain, but Felix said, “Uh, I think people think we aren’t walking far enough apart. Either that or they’re homophones.”

“Homophobes,” Sylvain corrected.

Felix glared at him. “That’s what I meant!”

“Well, in that case… maybe we’ve gotta gay it up.”

“Dude, what?”

“You know!” Sylvain decided to push his luck. “Because they can’t tell we’ve already, uh, ‘merged households’.”

Felix snorted. “That’s a euphemism for the times, alright.”

“I’m serious! We gotta hold hands. Here, hold this,” Sylvain said, wiggling his fingers by his side. Felix raised an eyebrow.

“Or I can put my hand in your back pocket,” Sylvain offered. “That would also get the message across. Everyone’ll be like, ‘oh, they’re together!’ and look away, or be like, ‘eww, they’re together!’ and look away. Problem solved either way.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “You are so fucking ridiculous,” he said. And then grabbed Sylvain’s hand.

Sylvain’s heart glowed. He wished he could see Felix’s mouth screwed up in a little pout like he knew it must have been behind the mask.

And as they continued walking, no one looked at them funny anymore. The sky turned from peach to tangerine to plum, and Sylvain’s joy deepened with every second spent holding Felix’s hand.

At some point on the way back, Sylvain spotted a familiar face on the other side of the street. “Is that—hey! Dimitri!”

Felix’s hand yanked out of his. Sylvain looked back to see Felix cradling his hand to his stomach like he’d been burned.

Before he knew it, Sylvain’s stomach had caved in and he found it hard to breathe. Roaring static filled his ears. Dimitri crossed the street to greet them, but Sylvain didn’t hear a single word Dimitri said.

Of course, he had half-expected this from the start. He was famous for being a lover in only the most superficial sense, known for one-night stands and two-week relationships. Why would Felix pick him if he wanted more than that? He knew he wasn’t worth that much investment.

Though he’d suspected it was just a matter of time before the shine wore off, he hadn’t realized Felix was already embarrassed to be seen with him.

Sylvain was numb all the way back to his apartment.

Felix could sense that something was wrong. “Are you good?”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.” He unlocked the door and shoved it open.

“You don’t seem fine.”

And then Sylvain was angry. What the fuck did Felix know, anyway?

“Dude, I _am_ fine,” he said with a hard laugh that probably wasn’t convincing. He sat on the couch and viciously, ineffectively tried to tug his shoes off, uncoordinated and unseeing due to not being able to feel his body. “I just—my feet hurt, for some reason. I think I’ve gotten unused to wearing shoes—”

“Yeah, not going outside kinda has that effect.” Felix knelt down beside him and untied his shoes, easing them off his feet.

And then Sylvain felt Felix’s thumbs pressing into the sole of his foot. Felix was looking down in concentration, rubbing his feet. It confused the hell out of Sylvain. He wanted to cry and didn’t know how.

“Hey, Felix,” he said, hiding his rising hysteria behind upbeat apathy, “what do you think about all the people who’re getting together out of loneliness and convenience?”

Felix glanced up at him before looking down again. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

That caught Sylvain truly off guard. “Wh—what?”

“Haven’t you seen all those memes about people suddenly deciding their sexuality is more fluid than they thought? About roommates who are temporarily willing to… experiment?”

“Uh, what? But I… I really am gay.”

Felix blinked at him, looking puzzled. “Then what about all the girls whose hearts you broke? Doesn’t that mean _all_ your relationships have been loneliness and convenience?”

“Oh… I…”

“I guess I can’t blame people for being lonely, though,” Felix quickly continued. “It just seems cruel for the person who’s just an experiment. And I doubt it works for most people—like, how would it help for people who aren’t actually friends?”

All the breath whooshed out of Sylvain.

“Well, it’s a good thing I got stuck with you,” Felix said, rising to stand again. “My best friend. So I’m never lonely enough to do something I’d regret.” He ruffled Sylvain’s hair. “I’ll make dinner tonight.”

“Okay,” Sylvain said, feeling hollow. And it made perfect sense.

That Felix could look through him and see he was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit sexual content. If you know me IRL, I recommending reading until Felix says "Come back to bed", and then command+F... maybe "Awesome sauce" ?? if you're okay with seeing some post-coital cuddling and banter. Otherwise command+F "it was only noon".
> 
> So my side notes for this chapter are 1: I'm so sorry this chapter took so long, I think I'm procrastinating on publishing bc I don't want it to end. :( I even wrote Bernie's whole short story before realizing I didn't have room (or narrative reason) to include it. 
> 
> 2: Again, I did not intend this chapter to be so long. Oops.
> 
> And 3: I'm so sorry for this chapter in general. So, so deeply sorry.


	29. the switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wednesday, May 13th - Thursday, May 14th. Sylvain sees that there really is no going back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings in end notes. If you know me irl, please skip this chapter.

Sylvain was very good at acting like nothing was wrong. It was shockingly easy, actually; he was great at keeping his tone light, making jokes and faking a smile. Perhaps he should have gone into theatre.

“So,” he said as they got into bed. He stared at the line where the wall met the ceiling. “Did you want me to fuck you tonight?”

Felix stiffened beside him. “Uh, yes. How did you know?”

“It just, um, makes sense?” They’d had sex every night at Felix’s request, so…

“Okay, well—um, I mean, great,” Felix stammered, moving into his field of vision on all fours above him. “The lube is still in the drawer on your side, right?”

“Lube?” Sylvain repeated stupidly.

“Well, yeah. If you’re gonna… you know, fuck me…” Felix said. Sylvain continued staring at him blankly. “I mean, it doesn’t seem fair that you’ve done it and I haven’t…”

Oh. Sylvain had hoped to just give Felix a handjob before internally crying himself to sleep.

“Not everything has to be exactly equal to be fair, you know,” Sylvain said with a smile. “Like, I feel like we both enjoyed it equally, so what’s the big deal about who did what? I mean, it was fun, but not so fun that you have to do it, like, _tonight_ —”

“It’s not about fun,” Felix said, his expression tight.

“What is it about, if not fun?”

“I—” Felix shut his mouth. “Nothing. Let’s do it for fun, then.”

Sylvain smiled but didn’t move.

“Why are you hesitating?” Felix asked, cutting right to the point as always. “Do you really not want to?”

Sylvain tried to think of a reason that wasn’t the main one. “I just... know I’m not going to be… as good at doing delicate work with my fingers as you are?”

“I’m not delicate work,” said Felix, leveling him with a determined stare. “So you don’t have to worry about that. I’m not worried.”

Was that a sign of trust, or just apathy? The idea that Felix might feel safe in his hands made Sylvain ache.

Felix kissed his shoulder, and Sylvain barely felt it. All this pain inside, and nowhere to put it.

“You’re still hesitating,” Felix said, pulling back. “Seriously, what’s wrong? You’re not going to break me. Or… are you worried about not pleasing me…?”

“Definitely not,” Sylvain said quickly, pasting on his best sleazy fuckboy smirk. “I can give as good as I get.”

“Sylvain…”

Felix kissed his mouth then, gently, and—oh, that… that felt nice, actually. Why did it—

“You’re still hesitating,” Felix said again, increasingly frustrated. “What’s—”

“It just takes me a while,” Sylvain blurted. “Sometimes. When I’m the one… y’know. Topping.” He had never told anyone that his famous “stamina” as a lover felt like more of a curse than a blessing. Just more proof of something intimately dysfunctional about him.

“We have all night,” Felix said adamantly.

Sylvain’s chest thudded hollowly. Why did Felix want damaged goods?

As if sensing the stabbing in Sylvain’s chest, Felix took that moment to skim his hands over Sylvain’s sternum, smoothing over his shirt in a way that actually _did_ make it hurt a bit less, the way that rubbing an injury distracted from pain.

Ah. Sylvain had almost forgotten that physical intimacy could be used for emotional comfort. He could give in and feel better.

And really, why shouldn’t he give in? Felix wanted it. He wanted it. Felix was offering to be the antidote to his own venom, the rebound to his own heartbreak. Why not let him serve that purpose? They really could just have fun.

“Sylvain,” Felix said, cupping his cheek. “I don’t mind if you don’t. Really. And if you still don’t enjoy it, we can just do something else.”

 _If?_ The word rang in Sylvain’s head. The idea that Felix thought he could _fix_ him slid into him like the cruelest fucking splinter. He couldn’t get it out.

Well, maybe there was one way to get it out. Sylvain reached up and undid Felix’s braid.

Felix gave him a tentative smile. One that said, _Have I said the right thing to get you to sleep with me?_ Sylvain pushed Felix down so he could be on top.

It was… comforting, Sylvain thought as awareness slowly slipped back into his body. He focused on the texture of his clothes as he undressed, and Felix’s warm lips as they kissed, and the lube on his finger heating up when he pushed it into Felix’s body. These were welcome feelings.

And the slick sound of his fingers when he fucked two of them into Felix’s hot little hole—what a turn on _that_ was. Hearing that sound as he withdrew his fingers and pushed them back in, followed by a muffled moan from Felix—

“God, you’re cute,” he let slip before he could even stop himself. And he decided not to stop, because Felix squirmed and panted like a fucking wet dream every time he whispered in his ear, mouthing, “Does this feel good?” and “You look so hot like this,” as he touched Felix from the inside. “You like that? Can’t wait to be my plaything, huh?”

“How do you say shit like that with a straight face?” Felix panted out.

“Oh, it’s easy,” he said, casually thrusting his fingers into Felix. “You just remove the filter between your brain and mouth.”

“I thought you were born without one of those.”

“Yep, it’s called congenital sexy talk syndrome. It’s incurable.”

Felix closed his eyes as his hips twitched. “Th-that would explain so much,” he weakly quipped back.

“So you agree? That it’s sexy?”

Felix groaned in response, and Sylvain took some dark kind of enjoyment in not being able to tell whether it was from frustration or pleasure. “No, I just—ah—like when you say what you think—”

(Ha. If Sylvain actually said what he was thinking, he would be screaming.)

Well, at least Felix’s little moans were erotic as always. Sylvain could hear how much noise they were making together, but he didn’t care. Who was going to stop them?

Felix, apparently. “Oh my god,” he whined as Sylvain’s fingers moved with a wet _shlick_.

“What?”

“It’s just—ugh, the _sound_.” Felix cringed like he was in pain from it.

Sylvain chuckled, just to be obnoxious. “I know. Great, isn’t it? All of your holes are noisy.”

Felix’s eyes blazed like he was considering murder.

“You don’t have to be so proud, you know.”

“Proud?” Felix repeated in disbelief. “I’m not fucking _proud_ of this.”

(Clearly.)

“I just mean you can let go of your pride,” Sylvain said lightly. “Like, I’m not keeping track. Just let yourself go. I swear, I’ll forget all of this if you want me to.”

Felix set his jaw. “Fine.”

Felix started pushing back onto his fingers. And it was commendable, the way Felix let himself go. The shameless, righteous, animal way that his hips moved as he fucked Sylvain’s fingers.

“Come on, Sylvain. I want you.”

 _I want you more,_ Sylvain thought desperately. _I want you to cuddle me for no reason and kiss me when you aren’t in the mood, to hold my hand in public and tell me you love me. Why can’t I have that? How come you get whatever you want from me without even needing to ask for it?_

“Sylvain,” Felix repeated. “ _I want you_.”

_Why?_

“You should have to beg for it,” Sylvain responded aloud to his own train of thought, though Felix had not been privy to it.

Felix chewed his lip. “Then—please. I think—I think I want you inside of me now.”

“Want?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Just want?”

Felix’s eyes narrowed scathingly. “What do you want me to say? ‘Oh pretty please, Sylvain, I need to feel you inside’?”

It was clearly tongue-in-cheek, but it sent a vicious thrill through Sylvain anyway. “Yeah. But say it like you mean it.”

Felix gave him a long-suffering look—and then did that terrible, sweet thing where his resistance _melted_. “Please, Sylvain,” he said quietly. “I need to feel you inside.”

“Then ride me.”

Sylvain lay down, and Felix got into position kneeling over him, his thighs visibly trembling. He guided Sylvain’s tip to his hole while Sylvain’s stomach swarmed with nervous jitters. With his hands braced on Sylvain’s chest, Felix lowered himself down.

Sylvain slid inside shockingly easy. Felix’s body seemed to fit him like a glove.

But maybe that was just Sylvain's perception; Felix himself was doubled over and gasping, trembling harder as he took it all the way in a single slow stroke. He slid down to the base, and he didn’t come back up.

Once Felix had it all the way in him, it was like he was frozen. Sylvain saw a flash in his mind of when they’d climbed out onto the roof, when Felix crumpled as his knees gave out beneath him. That was exactly how he looked now, helpless, almost panicked by his body’s refusal to cooperate, leaving him impaled all the way down on Sylvain’s cock.

Sylvain stayed utterly still. “Am I hurting you?”

“Ngh, no, it’s just—intense, and—” Felix gasped like he was going to cry and bit the back of a finger to dam up his mouth. It was the hottest thing Sylvain had ever witnessed.

“Fuck, so _full_ —” With a full-body shudder, Felix’s chin dropped toward his chest, his head hanging down so sheets of dark hair swept forward around his face. God, what a fucking beautiful creature. What a gorgeous human being.

Without thinking, Sylvain reached up to tuck one side of Felix’s silky curtain of hair back behind his ear, revealing Felix’s face again. Felix was blinking down at him like he was about to cry. Sylvain felt a wet drip on his stomach and almost pulled Felix off of him—before realizing the drip was from Felix’s cock.

Heat pulsed in Sylvain’s stomach. Without consciously deciding to, he swiped the dot of precome up with the tip of a finger and put it in his own mouth. Felix gasped.

And when Felix dripped onto his stomach again, Sylvain smeared his finger through it a second time and used it as lube to pinch Felix’s nipple with.

Felix squirmed, and Sylvain felt that sinfully good heat shift around his cock. “Is it… good for you too?” Felix asked, still panting hard. There was some strange kind of consternation on his face, as if the answer really mattered.

On some level, Sylvain couldn’t believe that was even in question. “Jesus Christ, Felix, you feel—” Indescribable. He couldn’t even put it into words. “Just so, so fucking good,” he finally said.

He felt choked by how good Felix felt around him—by how he felt just looking at Felix—by the realization that he had fucked so many people and never really felt it at all.

When Sylvain let his hand fall away, Felix got out, “I can’t—I can’t really move, but you could just... move me.” Sylvain felt another drop of heat on his abs that seemed to soak right through his skin.

He captured the wetness on two fingertips, lifting them to Felix’s face as an offering. With a soft moan, Felix reached up and held the hand between his own with all the sweetness of cradling a lover’s face. Felix lapped at the fingertips and took them deep into his mouth, closing his eyes, momentarily content to sit on Sylvain's cock and suck his fingers. Sylvain felt chills from feeling Felix’s tongue massage the length of his fingers, his teeth around the base.

And then Felix pulled off of his fingers, still holding Sylvain’s one hand in his two. “Sylvain,” he said. “Really. You can move me.”

“You sure?”

“ _Yes_. You can be rough with me.” He released Sylvain’s hand.

So Sylvain lifted Felix’s hips for him with both hands, and then pushed them back down. Felix slid helplessly on his cock, gasping on the descent. Sylvain did it again, loving the way Felix went pliant in his hands. And again, savoring the filthy moan it wrung out of Felix.

He did it a fourth time, and a fifth time, pausing only once to stir his hips around, feeling out how much Felix’s insides would rearrange to accommodate him. Felix’s eyelashes fluttered as Sylvain apparently found the right spot inside him.

“Like this?” Sylvain asked smugly. He knew the answer just from Felix’s breathing, fast and heavy. That was the sound of someone too overcome with pleasure to respond. He picked Felix up by the hips again, and then lowered him slowly while Felix gasped and shook with desperate impatience.

Felix seemed to find the will to move again and rocked his hips forward and back in time with the thrusts. “Oh that’s—that’s really good, oh fuck—” Felix momentarily went slack again before rocking back against Sylvain again, cock drooling onto Sylvain’s stomach.

Sylvain struggled to maintain his own composure, but the sounds he got out of Felix were so good, so heartbreakingly vulnerable that he did it again. Sylvain’s chest ached.

He pushed Felix down onto him as far as he could go. Felix’s hips jerked, and an absolutely filthy sound came out of his mouth, a wet and desperate cry.

Never mind. _That_ was what hitting the right spot sounded like.

He sharply tugged Felix’s hips to penetrate him deeper, and Felix leaned back and planted his hands on his own ankles, arching his back and pushing his chest out. A weak cry fell from Felix’s mouth every time Sylvain fucked in again.

“Found your sweet spot, huh?” Sylvain panted as Felix’s body clenched around him.

“Don’t call it that,” Felix muttered, his face betraying how good he felt.

“What, then? Your perfect place? Spot that makes you see stars?”

“Shut up shut up shut up—”

“What do you want me to call it, then?”

Felix gritted his teeth. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.”

“Well.” Sylvain ground his hips forward. “Found your absolutely nothing at all.”

“Syl—”

Sylvain slammed into that spot again and enjoyed making Felix wail. “Yep. Right there,” Sylvain added with his nastiest grin.

“God, I hate you with a passion,” Felix growled down at him.

At least the passion part was mutual.

Felix took over again, riding Sylvain like it was revenge. Which it was, if “revenge” was getting absolutely fucked and ruined by the person he loved while it meant nothing. And the sweet view of Felix bouncing on his cock—the helpless face of pleasure, the ripple of Felix’s stomach muscles, the sway of Felix’s cock between spread thighs...

Sylvain let Felix use his body like a dildo, and it was absurdly hot to watch. He had let people use him like this before, but it had never felt this good.

Felix still couldn’t pick himself up very far, but that was even better. Or worse. Eventually Felix put his hands back on Sylvain’s chest and just slid back and forth over him, engulfing his dick in blissful wet friction. Sylvain could feel Felix’s muscles flutter, squeezing him, milking him. Felix’s ass felt like fucking heaven, and it wasn’t fair.

Wait, what the fuck was he doing? This was supposed to be _fun_. Yet the only pleasure he seemed to register was Felix’s.

“You can go harder, you know,” Felix panted. He was still squeezing his eyes shut in a way that looked painful. His nails bit into the skin of Sylvain’s chest where Felix was bracing himself.

“Really? ‘Cause it seems like—”

“ _Yes,_ ” Felix insisted. “Go harder. Or faster, or just—fuck me however you want.”

Right. Felix liked to be needed desperately, with no room for tenderness. What did it matter if Sylvain wanted to fuck him gently?

(He should have known that anyone willing to fuck him this many times had something deeply wrong with them, too.)

Fine. Sylvain pushed down his heart’s desire to comfort Felix, to check if he was okay, and focused instead on the desires of his body—the demanding ache in his balls, the ready heat in his stomach. His next thrust was brutal enough to make Felix whimper.

“Like being full of me, sweetheart?” he asked, knowing Felix would hate it.

Sure enough, Felix looked— _upset?_ “Why are you being such a little bitch?” Felix asked.

“Why are you being such a little slut?” Sylvain shot back. Felix liked the pretense of a fight, right?

So why did this feel like more than pretense?

He fucked selfishly into Felix’s body, snapping his hips up—but no, if he were really being selfish, he would be taking Felix apart slowly, the way _he_ wanted. Fucking Felix hard was just doing what Felix wanted.

Sylvain had never had hate-sex before, but he imagined it felt something like this. “I—I want to try a different position,” he suddenly decided.

“Okay,” Felix said immediately. “Um. Sure. What position?”

“I don’t know, just something else—so you can move more. I want to feel you moving against me.”

Felix turned his eyes away, thinking and biting his lip. No shameful blush this time, just nervously looking away. Sylvain found it so unbearably cute, to think that even while seated on his cock, Felix was too timid to meet his eyes—

Or maybe Sylvain needed to stop with all the conjecture. Maybe Felix just really hated eye contact that much.

“Um, maybe we could both—I dunno, both lay on our sides? And you could hold me?” Felix said. “Like when we—”

“Yes,” Sylvain said, helpless to how much he wanted to hold Felix. And not ready to hear Felix say “snuggle” or “cuddle” or “spoon”.

They readjusted, laying back to chest. One of Felix’s hands reached behind him to pull Sylvain’s hips flush with his again, and Sylvain was so shockingly sensitized by arousal that every touch felt like fire.

Felix drew one leg toward his chest, hiking his knee up into a figure 4 and laying half on his stomach. He dragged Sylvain’s hand to grip the back of his leg. Sylvain couldn’t resist running his hand up and down the underside of Felix’s thigh, so long and smooth and slick with sweat. His gaze slid down the length of Felix’s back, to his ass—and then back up an inch to his birthmark.

He needed to stop romanticizing this. This wasn’t romantic. It was just fucking. This was just two warm, willing bodies, bashing into each other until they went numb. Just him and this perfect ass, both muscular and soft, the taut curve of it like a crescent moon—

The moment the head of his cock found Felix’s hole, Sylvain slammed his hips into it.

But oh, the way Felix gasped when he did. The way Felix’s back arched when he moved in time with him. Sylvain released Felix’s leg to reach into the crease of Felix’s hip and run his hand down the lean curve of Felix’s stomach instead. He imagined he could feel his cock inside Felix’s body. And then his hand was around Felix’s dick, rubbing the tip in the way that he knew made Felix moan most.

“Sylvain, can you... talk to me again?”

“Fuck yes I can.” This was Sylvain’s area of expertise. Copious amounts of dirty talk had gotten him through many a sexual experience—mostly just repeated porny lines, but it worked well enough.

(Anything to take his mind off of his partner.)

Except now, suddenly, everything coming from his mouth came from his genuine thoughts: “Fuck, Felix. You’re so hot inside, I can barely take it.”

“You’re so perfect for this. Perfect for taking my cock. No one else has done it like this.”

“You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever had—”

Then he had to stop talking, because his mind was racing to make sense of everything. Felix’s hair splayed over the pillow, soft as jeweled seaweed tossed onto white sand—and Felix’s passion, dirty as a snowball fight—he couldn’t help it. Felix made him think of poetry. _Everyone needs a place, and—_

“You’re mine.”

Felix shuddered.

“I, ah, I changed my mind,” Felix said. “I want to see you—want you to see me, too.” Sylvain’s cock twitched pathetically at the words, and he knew Felix had felt it from the little wet gasp he heard. He pulled out again to let Felix turn and lay on his back.

On his back, Felix seemed to find his footing again, so to speak. He wrapped his arms around Sylvain’s neck, dragging him down to be face to face, rocking against him hard and fast. “Enjoying the view?” Felix asked, his voice low. His expression conveyed some combination of shy and petulant and desperate that made Sylvain ache with affection.

“Yeah,” Sylvain said simply. He didn’t have the capacity for guile right now.

“Then, come on, _please,_ just—you can hold me tighter, fuck me harder,” Felix urged him. Which was fucking insane, because Sylvain was already pounding into him incessantly. “Ah, more, more—”

“Jesus Christ, Felix, why are you—”

“Isn’t that what you’re worried about?” Felix asked, distraught. “Breaking me? Isn’t that why you’re all—all tense, and distant, and—holding back from me?”

And Sylvain had the wind knocked out him by the realization that he was doing irrevocable harm to Felix, and himself, and their relationship. He had only thought this could hurt one out of the three, but he was so tied up with Felix that he—he couldn’t do this—

Even if Felix didn’t love him, Felix was trying so hard to make this good for him. The least he could do was try to be good to himself.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” Sylvain said, reaching to hold Felix’s hand. “And I—I think I’d rather go slow, anyway.”

Felix’s expression turned into something dreadfully sweet and relieved, something that made every ounce of aggression in Sylvain shatter into dust. “Okay,” Felix said. “I can do that, too.”

Sylvain had used to think that sex was just people cooperatively self-soothing, fucking away their loneliness together. Masturbating using each other’s bodies. And he still kinda thought that. That described most of the sex he’d had in his life.

But it wasn’t like that with Felix. It never had been, and it never could be. At least not for him. He was here, entwined with Felix in the most intimate of ways, and he wanted to love Felix while he had the chance.

So Sylvain ended up fucking him as he lay on his back, folding him in half, burying himself into him over and over, with Felix’s knees hiked up on either side of his chest, Felix’s feet pointed as his toes curled in pleasure. Sylvain fucked him deep until he was crying out with each thrust, sweet little “uh, uh” noises that made Sylvain’s core burn. Felix got so tight around his cock. So slick and warm.

And he was warm when Sylvain slowed down and ground gently into him, which somehow made him cry out even louder. He was warm as he tossed his head, flushed and sweaty, whispering, “Sylvain, Sylvain.” He was warm as he came with Sylvain’s hand on his cock.

“Can I keep going?” Sylvain begged. “I’m almost there. Please, Felix? Please?”

“Yeah.” Felix panted, still moving with him. “Still feels good. So good. I wanna make you come.”

“I want to come inside you.”

“God, just do it then. Make me take it. I want it.” Felix squirmed like might die from the mortification of wanting so badly.

Sylvain came, and as the world went dark and quiet around him, he heard Felix murmur, “God, yes, like that. Love to see you come.” They stayed still for a moment, catching their breath.

Sylvain started to withdraw himself from Felix’s body, but Felix said, “Wait. I’m not done yet.”

Sylvain’s first thought was to say, “Oh my god, Felix, I love you.” Which he couldn’t say.

Then he thought to say, “Oh, you wanna have some more fun?” Which again, he couldn’t say, because he couldn’t bring himself to make fun of Felix when Felix was the one person to take him seriously.

Even now, Felix kissed him slowly, earnestly. Unironically. Felix was such a good kisser now.

And then Felix started moving, just the smallest bit, arching his spine slightly off the mattress and then flattening it back down. He repeated the motion, tilting his hips with a quiet, closed-mouth hum of a moan. His abs flexed, tightening and releasing, tightening and releasing. Not thrusting so much as just squirming, rubbing Sylvain’s cock inside of him. Such an instinctual motion.

Felix was careful to keep Sylvain deep inside of him, with his wet rim around the very base of Sylvain’s cock. His hole clenched tight, clamping down around the intrusion. Sylvain couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not, but he loved the idea that it was Felix’s attempt to keep his come from seeping out of him.

It seemed to have to opposite effect, though; his come dribbled out of Felix’s hole, and it felt disgustingly good. His cock that had never completely softened was coaxed back to hardness. Sylvain groaned, both at the slick sensation around his cock and at the sight of Felix, whose eyes were shut in concentration as he focused on taking Sylvain to the hilt.

He hooked his legs around Sylvain’s lower back to make sure he was seated as deep as he could go. He already was, but Sylvain whimpered at the possessiveness of Felix’s legs wrapped powerfully around him. Sylvain could feel himself getting hard again, much faster than he would have ever predicted. The pleasurable sensation swelled as the heat tingled low in his stomach. He had a different kind of stamina now.

And he could see Felix’s cock reaching full hardness again, too. The synchronicity of it felt almost ritualistic, somehow. That his body reawakened within Felix, and Felix’s body revived with him inside.

Eventually Felix let the soles of his feet land back on the mattress. He curled his toes into the sheets and set his body swaying up and down along the bed, like he was riding Sylvain while still laying down. Felix's skin shone with sweat, to the point that for a second, the sheets stuck to his arched back before falling away again.

His body rocked back and forth in quick, jackhammer thrusts, swaying on all the points where the mattress was bearing his weight: his feet, his ass, his shoulder blades and elbows. His head on the pillow, which lolled to one side as Felix lost himself in the motion, or the feeling, or both.

Sylvain could hear Felix’s hair make a quiet rustling sound as it dragged back and forth across the pillowcase in time with his rocking. Watching Felix fuck himself to pieces on his cock was so perfect that Sylvain stayed completely still, not wanting to risk disturbing the earth-shattering sight spread before him.

He watched just the last inch or so of his cock slip out of the tight ring of Felix’s hole, and then sink back in, again and again. It seemed that despite his desire for friction, Felix couldn’t bear to let go of anything more than an inch.

The soft sound of Felix panting with each thrust drew Sylvain’s eye upward again, snagging momentarily on Felix’s cock bobbing against his stomach, on the deep flush on his chest, before moving to his parted lips, his cheek pressed into the pillow. The blissed out look on his face was so arousing that Sylvain, who thought he couldn’t possibly get any harder, could feel his dick twitch inside of Felix, pulsing against his firm inner walls.

Felix must have felt it too, because his eyes flew open to look at Sylvain. “Sylvain,” he said, voice breathy and raw. Then he didn’t say anything else as he propped himself up on his elbows and fucked himself down harder onto Sylvain, animal and indulgent in his persistence.

Sylvain was panting too, and hearing his name like that, from Felix’s mouth, was what made his voice creep into his breath, coloring his breathing into fully voiced “ah, ah” sounds. He noticed Felix’s legs were trembling and seized one on an impulse. He slung the knee over his shoulder, hugging the pillowy thigh so it molded flush to his chest.

Felix moaned weakly. His torso fell back onto the mattress as Sylvain’s cock thrust into him differently with his one leg hiked up. Sylvain ground his hips forward into Felix, wanting to honor Felix’s desire for maximum penetration, fucking Felix until he, too, was panting “ah, ah, ah.” Writhing against him and chanting, “Ah, Sylvain, Sylvain,” like he just couldn’t get enough of it.

Sylvain couldn’t resist pulling back, still just an inch or so, and sliding back in, drawing a sweet gasp from Felix. He repeated the motion as his abs rolled against the soft underside of Felix’s leg.

“Oh, Sylvain. Want you, Sylvain, want you so badly, oh please, Sylvain—”

“I’m already here,” he said, to avoid saying, _I want you that much and more_.

“No,” Felix whined. “ _Need_ you. Need you _here_ —” He laid their clasped hands on his stomach. “Here, Sylvain.”

Sylvain groaned deep in his throat, feeling a drop of their combined sweat roll down the line where their skin met, along his stomach and the wide muscle of Felix’s thigh. The drop of sweat reached their joined pelvises, and then disappeared, or evaporated, or got absorbed in the sheets, or lost in Sylvain’s pubic hair, or fucked into Felix’s hole.

Sylvain pulled his hips back a bit further before pistoning in the next time. Felix shuddered violently and arched his back high and held it there. “Again,” he gasped. “Please, right there.” He kept the center of his back lifted off the bed to help Sylvain achieve the angle he wanted, as if strung up by some magnetic force tugging him to Sylvain’s chest by the navel.

Sylvain moaned a helpless “yes” and thrust into Felix again. Felix spasmed around him, and Sylvain felt like he might faint from the sheer endorphin rush it sent through him.

Sylvain felt the orgasm building in him and warned, “Fuck, I’m gonna come—”

“Inside,” Felix gasped. “Again. Inside. Please, again, again, again.”

He didn’t know whether it was seconds or hours later that he finished.

“Was that good for you?” Felix asked as they lay together in their underwear afterwards. They faced each other, exhausted and staring into each other’s eyes.

If Sylvain hadn’t known better, he would’ve said Felix looked… self-conscious? Unsure? No, _insatiable_. Even fucked-out and sleepy, Sylvain thought he still caught a dissatisfied look in Felix’s eyes. (What about him wasn’t enough? Who would Felix be fucking if he had a choice?)

With gentle fingers, Felix cradled Sylvain’s left hand between both of his and lifted it to his face, watching him with questioning eyes and kissing the inside of Sylvain’s wrist, the exposed blue veins where girls dabbed on perfume.

Sylvain’s heart ached with the intimacy of it. “Felix, that was… amazing.” _The best I’ve ever had._

Felix’s eyes looked hazy, making brief eye contact before they slid shut. Felix cupped Sylvain’s hand to his mouth, with the heel of the hand against his chin.

Felix’s soft lips touched his palm, slowly, before pulling away. And then again. Sylvain counted each kiss: _one, two, three_. Felix kissed his palm over and over, complete with quiet little smooch noises that made Sylvain’s stomach do somersaults. _Eight, nine, ten._ Sylvain could feel the fluttering of one of Felix’s eyelids under his pinky finger.

He felt the soft tip of Felix’s nose smush cutely against the base of his fingers with each kiss. He could feel a pulse of warmth each time Felix exhaled, like a glowing ember in his hand. And the slow kisses never stopped. He simply lost track of how many Felix had pressed to his palm after reaching twenty-seven.

He kept his eyes closed and focused on the warmth Felix generated inside him, imagining directing it down his arm and into Felix. He wanted Felix to feel the incredible depth of the emotion suffuse him everywhere that they touched, against his lips and his nose and his eyelashes. He wanted to give Felix something back.

He desperately hoped it would go through to Felix, but he feared it was like hitting _try again_ on a text that just wouldn’t send.

Felix released his hand and said, “Here. Turn away from me.” Sylvain did, and then let out a sigh as Felix hugged him from behind.

It was like existing in a semi-aroused state all the time when Felix was touching him. Even when they were just laying motionless together, everything just felt so good: the warm planes of Felix’s chest against his back, the hypnotic push and pull of air over his neck as Felix’s breathing slowed.

Felix draped an arm over his side, softly placing a hand on his stomach. The hand stroked down his belly and halfway down his thigh, then back up to his stomach in a slow, sweeping motion originating at Felix’s elbow. The feeling lulled him into a blissful state of flux. Felix repeated the soothing movement, and Sylvain wanted to cry at the light tingle of friction on his skin.

Felix then changed to just rubbing a hand over his stomach, his fingers tracing a wide circle around Sylvain’s navel. Felix’s hand was so gentle on him—on the softest, most vulnerable part of him. It felt good, so good that he just wanted to stay like this forever, with Felix touching his stomach until one or both of them fell asleep.

It was like the world’s cruelest joke.

He moved away and pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. “We’re on the wrong sides of the bed,” he said. Felix gave him a strange look with his still-glassy eyes, but he scooted over and allowed Sylvain to climb over him so they could switch sides.

As Sylvain lay back down, Felix tugged him in close again, running his hands over Sylvain’s chest and shoulders, curling up against his side.

Sylvain brushed his knuckles along the softness of Felix’s cheek, admiring the beautiful silky skin. He traced his finger along Felix’s face, from brow-bone to temple to cheekbone, drawing a slow C shape next to Felix’s eye. It made words rise unbidden into his throat. _Calm. Cute. Care._

Then he pulled himself away. He touched Felix’s cheekbone to remind himself that any softness was an illusion he was choosing not to see past. But even Felix’s bones were beautiful. _Crave. Cry. Collapse._

“I really liked this,” Felix said quietly.

Sylvain felt eviscerated. Torn apart from the inside, like his chest had been cracked clean open. “Great,” he said, hollowed out. “I’ll fuck you whenever you want.”

_May 14, 2020 at 1:53 AM_

_you let go of my hand today. so now i know._

_and suddenly i want back the agony that came from not knowing whether you loved me or not._

_i miss that feeling so dearly that it keeps me awake. i can’t sleep. i can barely breathe. i’ve rearranged all the pillows, pulled the blanket up to my eyes and ripped it off of me again. i wrapped myself in your arms, but i felt drowned by the guilt of using your body to delude myself._

_all of that, and still i can’t forget how i felt when i thought that maybe i was loved by you and just didn’t know it yet. i miss the hope i had before we dared to cross that line._

_i know that i’ve been loved. i’m lucky, in that regard, to have had people in my life who cared for me. friends, and…well, not family so much, but friends. so many good people who’ve cared about me._

_but god, i’ve never really wanted love as badly as i wanted it with you. i miss the beautiful mirage i used to see in the distance. upon closer inspection, i see that it was an illusion all along._

_maybe i needed to learn this lesson: that i cannot earn your love with either kindness or suffering, or laughter, or persistence, or passion, or sex, or time. unlike mine, your heart is immune to all temptations._

_but i’m the weaker one of us. i gave in, and now i have you._

_for two more days, i get to have you. in every way except the one that really matters._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sexual content and... self-hate and just general angst, I guess.
> 
> But more importantly, if you're an American citizen and you haven't already and are able to, GO VOTE!! I'm posting this for everyone who needs a distraction today, but god, please. (Edit: now it is too late to vote but I still hope people who could vote voted.)
> 
> (Also edit: bonus points to anyone who can identify the poems/poets Sylvain is thinking of)


	30. green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday, May 14th. Felix has a dream, a beautiful day, and a heart-to-heart. He nearly drowns in all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one minor warning for this chapter, I think! Enjoy <3

Felix dreamed again that night.

Of course, it didn’t occur to him at the time that he was dreaming, but in the back of his mind, he found himself... disturbed, somehow, by the fact that he was having vivid dreams again. Somehow he had thought sleeping curled up to Sylvain had banished them for good.

_In this dream, Felix found himself in a garden. Well, maybe it wasn’t a garden. It was some cold kind of landscape, all low shrubs and coniferous trees, needles and frozen-looking green. Green so green that it was nearly blue._

_But inside that forest, there was a clearing: a circle surrounded by a wrought iron fence, which, upon entering the gate, Felix felt certain was supposed to denote a garden. It had some fae, otherworldly atmosphere to it, like he had stepped into another dimension. Everything was silent and glittering in the harsh, still air._

_When he looked up, he could see something in the night sky. The milky way, or aurora borealis._

_Felix sensed that he had been coming here for a long time._

_As he shut the gate behind him and picked his way through the rows of dirt beds with a watering can, he found himself disappointed that there were only a few small sprouts, all of them more brown and shriveled than anything else._

_He whipped his head up at the sound of a branch creaking above him._

_In one of the pine trees just outside the fence, there was a slight, shadowy figure crouched like an assassin in the branches. A woman, if Felix had to guess, staring down at him dispassionately. He did not recognize her, but what was it they said about everyone in dreams being someone you’ve seen before?_

_Felix was suddenly afraid to move. “Hello?” he called to her cautiously._

_“You’ll never grow anything that way,” the woman said in a matter-of-fact voice. She leapt down from the tree into the clearing, just clearing the sharp iron fence spires._

_“You shouldn’t be here,” Felix said, reflexively backing away._

_“Relax, I’ve been here before.” She rolled her eyes in a way that reminded Felix of… himself. The resemblance was uncanny, actually: dark haired, sharp eyed. Huh._

_She joined him in looking down at the plants. “Huh,” she commented. “Pretty sad.”_

_“It’s not like anyone taught me how to do this!” Felix said, frustration mounting. “The only things I know are—are coldness, and distance, and violence, and—” Now that he thought about it, there wasn’t even water in the watering can. And if there had been, it would have been frozen. “Why am I even trying? I should just—”_

_In one swift motion, the woman pulled a bow and arrow from a case on her back, nocked the arrow, and aimed it at Felix’s face—all of which seemed shockingly at odds with her casual demeanor. “Do you know how to use this?” she asked._

_Felix’s hands tingled with unearned muscle memory. “I—I think so? But that won’t help here—”_

_The woman suddenly tilted the bow upward and pulled the bowstring back, letting it touch her lip before she released it, loosing the arrow into the sky. A bird fell, the arrow embedded in its breast._

_She picked it up and held it out to Felix. “You’re just more of a hunter,” she said. “Like me. But you can still grow something from that.”_

_Overwhelmed, Felix took the dead bird—a crow—in his hands. “But… how can you make anything from this?”_

_The woman shrugged. “You won’t know until you plant it.”_

_So Felix knelt in front of the dirt and pulled the arrow from the crow’s body, blood staining his fingers. Blood and dirt churned together as he dug a hole with his hands._

_He lowered the bird into the hole and covered it again. He waited for something to sprout from the soft swell of dirt._

_Nothing happened. “Now what?”_

_“Look around.”_

_He turned._

_All around him, the small plants scattered around the garden had... transformed. They weren’t the same plants struggling to survive in an unsuitable environment anymore; they were berry bushes. Hardy, twisted brambles, with bright little spots of color._

_“But what... what does this mean?” he asked, bewildered._

_“Bury the dead,” the woman said. “And then leave them there.”_

_Tremendously conflicted, Felix looked down at where the earth had sealed up over the bird again, as if the dirt had healed over and absorbed it._

_The woman sighed impatiently. “Do you feel sad about it, or just guilty?”_

_Felix felt a physical pain in his chest. “I… I just… I can’t leave it.”_

_“You can. And you have to. And there are ways to leave behind things you’ve lost that aren’t running away from them. It’s not even there anymore, remember? That’s what it means to be gone.”_

_She plucked a berry and put it into his hands. Felix looked down and saw there was no blood there anymore._

_“It’s gone,” she said sternly, “but it came back for you. In a different form. A different place. Where you needed it more. So stop staring at the ground, will you?” She tucked her bow back into the case on her back and pushed open the gate to leave._

_Had he forgotten to lock it…?_

_“And leave this open,” she suggested. “Maybe more people would come by here if they didn’t have to climb a tree.”_

Felix shivered awake.

Everything made more sense as he realized Sylvain had slipped away from him in the night, leaving him cold. Again. _Why?_

At some point, this had all stopped feeling like a game, or a challenge, or a checklist. At this point, loving Sylvain was just a given. Why did that make it feel like a matter of life and death?

Loving Sylvain was part of who he was now, and it terrified him. Felix wanted to hold him.

With a resigned sigh, Felix pulled the blankets tighter around himself, and wished that he knew how to ask.

The next morning, Felix discovered there was a pool in Sylvain’s apartment building. Felix should have known from how fucking bougie the place was, but it still managed to surprise him.

Specifically, it was at breakfast, when Sylvain snapped out of a spell of uncharacteristic reticence and asked, “Wanna go to the pool?” out of the blue.

“The pool?” Felix said with a start. “What pool?”

Sylvain made a cute little bemused face, looking back at Felix as he hand-washed the frying pan over the sink. “Uh, this building has a pool.”

“What? What is this, a fucking hotel?”

“It… actually used to be a hotel before it got converted into apartments, yes.”

Made sense. Kinda. “So, is the pool, like…”

“Heated?”

“No, I meant, like, allowed? Legal? Right now, I mean?”

“Yeah! It was closed all of April, but they sent out an email saying it’s open now as long as there’s only one family at a time—by which they mean one apartment of people, of course. I just thought, since you didn’t want to take a bath together…and it’s a nice day today, too…”

Felix stifled a laugh as Sylvain kept gesturing with the sponge and frying pan still in his hands, coming up with more reasons. He really didn’t need to. Felix was already going to agree.

“…and I mean… since it’s outdoors, and chlorinated… like, it’s definitely safe, and I know you didn’t ask, but it _is_ heated. And—”

“Okay, fine.”

Sylvain perked up instantly. “Really? Plan pool is a go?”

“Yep. The heating convinced me.”

That was how they ended up stepping out of the elevator on the fourth floor, with Sylvain’s extra bath towels draped over their arms. (How Felix’s father had ended up packing him boardshorts but no pajamas, however, would remain a mystery forever.)

“Here we go!” Sylvain said, swinging open the door to the outside deck. The spring air from outside smelled lightly of chlorine and transported Felix instantly back to shitty, humid hotel indoor pools from his childhood vacations. But whereas those pools were dim and grey and felt vaguely grimy in his memory, this pool was beautifully lit with sunlight. The surface of the water rippled like fresh sheets as a breeze tickled Felix’s skin.

Between the rectangular pool’s longer side and the chest-height plexiglas barrier ringing the deck stood some beachy-looking wooden tables and chairs, bleached by sun and stained by rain in a way that made them much more approachable. The slotted surfaces of the tables seemed a little incomplete without any iced drinks or mystery novels to adorn them for summer. Sylvain tossed his phone and wallet onto one.

“Wow,” said Felix as he took it in. “This is—”

“So fucking bougie?” Sylvain guessed.

“Well, yeah. But I was going to say ‘nice’.”

“Isn’t it?” Sylvain sighed happily.

Some strange vulnerable feeling rose up in Felix’s throat. “I haven’t been to a pool in so long,” he said, though it felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. “Since—you know. Since my family was whole.”

Felix bit his tongue before he could say anything else depressing and pity-inducing. He looked down at his flip-flopped feet.

“Oh, you know what’s funny?” Sylvain nudged him with an elbow. “I haven’t been to a pool with someone in a long time, either.”

Some tight muscle in Felix’s chest unclenched.

When he looked up, he saw Sylvain had gone to stand at the edge of the pool, his back turned to him. “So, do you wanna jump in first, or should I?” Sylvain T-posed comically, presumably in preparation to bellyflop in.

The pool was only five feet deep—not even deep enough to properly jump into. Felix pushed Sylvain in anyway.

He went down with a satisfying, flailing splash.

“Hey!” Sylvain scrambled out of the pool faster than Felix had thought possible and grabbed him in a bear-hug before throwing himself backwards into the water again—laughing, and taking Felix and all of Felix’s breath with him.

The water was slightly warmer than the air, as Sylvain had promised. Warm like bathwater—well, bathwater after Felix gave it an hour or two to cool from his preferred scalding hot to merely tepid. Sylvain released him after making sure Felix had been fully submerged, and Felix kicked off of him and swam away before surfacing.

“Coward!” Sylvain called as his head popped up from the water. “What, you start fights and can’t even finish them?”

Felix hadn’t planned to start a fight, but… Sylvain’s smile seemed genuinely taunting for the first time today, and Felix just couldn’t resist. “Oh, I can finish them, alright.”

With a delighted whoop, Sylvain dove back under the water and popped up a foot away from Felix, smacking the surface of the water to make it spray over him and igniting a fierce splash fight that got more and more dirty until they were trying to drown each other.

Sylvain was a pro at dragging Felix’s ankles out from under him every time he stood up, but Felix managed to briefly pin Sylvain at the bottom of the pool with a knee on his back several times by strategically exhaling all the air from his lungs and sinking like a stone to crush Sylvain underneath him. Finally Felix got the last proverbial word in by letting Sylvain push him under the water, taking in a mouthful of water, and then springing up to spurt it over Sylvain’s face.

“Eww, Felix!” Sylvain protested, wiping his (already wet) face theatrically. “I can’t believe you put this water in your mouth!”

“It’s not the worst thing that’s been in there,” Felix said, turning away with a sense of finality, discreetly wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“You little rascal—” Sylvain suddenly hooked his arms under Felix’s armpits from behind and hauled him backwards, laughing and kicking, to the side of the pool that went almost right up to the plexiglas barrier separating them from the skyline. He released Felix only long enough to dart around him before cornering him against the side of the pool, hands on Felix’s waist under the water pinning him back to the wall.

“You better not be talking about me,” Sylvain said, unable to hide his grin. “I bet I taste way better than this pool water.”

“Mmm, I don’t know about that.” Felix wrapped his arms around Sylvain’s neck and hooked one sly leg around Sylvain’s hips on impulse. “Maybe I need a reminder.” He pulled his leg in tight, using the pressure of his heel on Sylvain’s ass to jerk Sylvain’s hips into him for emphasis.

Sylvain chuckled and stepped in closer, pressing Felix more securely against the wall. Felix could see every fleck of gold in his irises as they reflected the sunlight that shone on his face. “You’re such a little nuisance,” Sylvain said. He put his mouth over Felix’s.

Felix opened his mouth at the touch of Sylvain’s delightfully wet lips, tasting the chlorine again as he licked at the corner of Sylvain’s mouth—always wanting to escalate things with Sylvain, complicate everything.

Sylvain hummed and keep his mouth irritatingly shut. But—as if in compromise—Sylvain pressed him a little harder against the wall, hands tickling Felix’s sides as they adjusted their firm hold on his waist, sending a spark of arousal down his spine. Felix almost hoped his hands would bruise.

Felix brought up his other leg to wrap around Sylvain, and Sylvain hoisted him in his arms, catching him with a hand under each asscheek to carry him by the hips. Sylvain lifted him high enough that Felix had to lean down and tilt Sylvain’s chin to kiss him.

And at last, Felix got to know what it was like to make Sylvain tilt his head back to kiss him! He felt giddy with gratification—powerful, at the top of the world. The jealous little gremlin of never forgetting triumphantly cheered, _Take that, Hubert!_ in the back of his head. _Hubert, and Dimitri, and Dedue, and everyone over six foot two—_

Sylvain pulled away from the kiss too soon. “Why’d you stop?” Felix pouted.

“Just wanted to see you,” Sylvain said. His eyes leisurely roamed across Felix’s wet face and bare chest. “Wet hair is such a good look on you,” he said appreciatively. Felix found himself strangely wanting to be seen. Wanting Sylvain to touch his hair. Take it out of the bun.

“Hey, speak for yourself,” he replied, pulling another inch back from Sylvain to admire the dancing lines of reflected sunlight that lit Sylvain from below in the narrow space between their bodies.

The weightlessness of the water let him easily pull himself closer to Sylvain until he was only an inch from his face again. He clung onto Sylvain’s shoulders with one arm as he brought the other hand up to push Sylvain’s hair back from where it was plastered flat to his forehead. There was something boyishly adorable about the way it looked—simultaneously longer and less fluffy than when it was dry. The water made his hair seem three shades darker than usual, turning his bright red to muted crimson.

Sylvain pressed another kiss to Felix’s mouth, which he eagerly reciprocated. Sylvain pulled frustratingly away again, making Felix tug at his neck before he leaned back in for more. Felix melted into the kiss and wrapped his legs tighter around Sylvain, pulling their bodies flush and grinding instinctively against Sylvain, just to be closer, always closer.

Sylvain pulled away from the kiss again and tipped their wet foreheads together, making a drop of water run down the side of Felix’s nose. “Hey. Stop getting me riled up,” Sylvain playfully scolded. He took a half step back so his body no longer pressed Felix to the wall.

Felix laughed a bit breathlessly. “Oh, was _I_ doing that? I thought you were getting hard for unrelated reasons.” But he loosened the squeeze of his spread legs, adjusting so he hugged Sylvain from his arms around Sylvain’s neck and set his feet lightly back on the rough pool flooring. Felix’s forehead felt cool again without Sylvain’s wet hair pressed against his.

Pretending to be apologetic, Sylvain shrugged and said, “Public decency,” jerking his head toward the door behind him.

“Didn’t know you had any. And besides,” Felix mockingly parroted, “who’s gonna see us? Lysithea?”

“No, her apartment faces the other side of the building. But we can’t go too crazy out here when someone could walk out here at any moment. And people _do_ live on the fifth floor, so…”

“Oh, they can look away,” Felix said crossly. Sylvain laughed and leaned in to kiss him again, lips moving with slow, passionate intensity. Felix made a quiet hum of pleasure as Sylvain’s mouth finally worked its miracles on his, first lining up to kiss Felix’s upper lip, then shifting down to toy with Felix’s bottom lip, pulling it between his own.

Felix pulled back, panting softly. “I thought you just said _didn’t_ want to have sex in the pool,” he said, heart pounding at his own daring.

“I don’t,” Sylvain murmured against his lips. “I just want to kiss you.” Sylvain caught his mouth in a kiss again, and that sent its own unique kind of happiness through Felix’s brain. Felix kissed back all the more fiercely, not caring if he was in too deep.

“I can carry you too, you know,” Felix said, grinning as the idea seized him.

“Of that I have no doubt.”

“So? Let me?”

Sylvain looped his arms around his neck and let Felix hike both of his legs up to grip his hips.

A laugh bubbled up inside Felix before he could help himself. He spun in a slow circle, turning as he walked backward through the water with Sylvain in his arms, feeling drunk off of the way Sylvain was smiling back at him. He stopped his spin when Sylvain’s shadow fell across him, and he looked up into Sylvain’s face, silhouetted by the sun behind him.

Sylvain eclipsing the sun. Where had he seen this before?

Felix bent at the waist and dunked him under the water.

“Pleh—you—you jerk!” Sylvain came up sputtering when Felix lifted him out after a couple seconds of holding him under. “Great.” Sylvain slapped at the water in annoyance. “Now I’ve swallowed pool water.”

“It’s not the worst thing you’ve swallowed, right?”

Sylvain pouted and lightly smacked him upside the head, but he left his other hand clamped on the back of Felix’s neck. Staying in his arms anyway.

“I thought showing affection through violence was _my_ thing?” Felix teased.

“Aha!” said Sylvain. “So you admit that you were showing affection all along!”

“No, sorry. I misspoke. I thought just straight-up violence was my thing.”

“You don’t have a monopoly on violence,” Sylvain retorted.

“I am not the state,” Felix agreed. Sylvain laughed, and Felix kissed him, and threw away all the delineations between what counted as desire or attachment or love, because he felt all of them, and what was the point of trying to separate them anyway?

Once they had both exhausted their desire to splash around and play-fight, they sat on steps leading down into the water. Felix was leaning the side of his head onto Sylvain’s shoulder. He sighed contentedly, idly walking one hand down Sylvain’s thigh, the small person of his hand striding on the legs of his index and middle finger.

He paused. “Did you… shave your legs?”

To his credit, Sylvain looked only a little embarrassed that he had noticed. “Only this morning. It’s a habit from swim team. It just… lets you feel the water differently? So since I wanted to go to the pool… it’s a thing, I swear.”

“Ahh,” Felix said knowingly. “I forgot you used to play sportsball.”

“Literally none of the sports I played involved any balls.”

“Haha,” said Felix.

Sylvain splashed him in the face. “I thought immature jokes were my thing! How old are you, twelve?”

“Right numbers, wrong order,” said Felix. “But wait—ice hockey?”

“Uses a puck, you goof,” Sylvain said, knocking the side of his leg into Felix’s.

“Oh.” Felix thought that might’ve been the first time anyone ever accused him of goofiness. He idly ran his hand over the slippery skin of Sylvain’s leg.

Sylvain laughed and lifted his hand away from his thigh. “This is a family-friendly pool, remember?”

“Only for one family at a time,” Felix shot back.

Wait. He hadn’t even meant to say that. But the word family didn’t taste so bitter when he said it like this.

They sat for a while, leaning together and watching the clouds drift by, before collecting their stuff from the table to go home. Sylvain had never even put on his goggles.

Felix had made an appointment to talk to Annette later that day (though Sylvain laughed at him for calling it an appointment), so when the time came, Felix commandeered Sylvain’s bedroom for a little privacy (though Sylvain then tried to call the third amendment on him, forcing Felix to remind him that he was more of a freelance, at-will kind of fighter than a murderer by profession).

As soon as the call connected, Annette gave Felix a miniature heart attack by saying, immediately and at maximum volume, “Hey Felix! Have you made any moves on Sylvain yet?”

“I—Annette! Oh my god, can’t you give me a heads up before saying that? Give me a chance to plug in my headphones—”

He fumbled for them on his nightstand while Annette started chanting, “You’re gay for Sylvain. You’re gay for Sylvain—”

Felix jammed his headphones into the audio jack on his laptop, cutting off Annette before he put the earbuds in and the onslaught resumed.

“—gay for Sylvain. You’re gay—”

“I get it, you can stop shouting about it now!” Felix snapped. “Jesus Christ, it’s like you forget I live in his fucking apartment.”

“Oh, I didn’t forget! I’m just trying to speed the process along. Is Sylvain in the room? I was hoping he would overhear.” Annette gave him a winning smile through the webcam that he stubbornly refused to reciprocate. “So, gimme the progress report! How is the seduction going?”

“The—the _seduction_? Excuse me?”

Annette did not seem to register that he had spoken. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a step-by-step plan to help you. I want this seduction to be… _successful_.” She stressed the word and winked, and Felix didn’t get it, and didn’t care to either.

“Can you please stop calling it that? Besides, we…”

Oh. Had he forgotten to tell Annette what had prompted his little sexual awakening? Like, the fact that they had already hooked up once? Good thing she’d called to check up on him.

“I guess you could say… that grave has already been dug?” Felix said uncertainly. Words had never been his strong suit.

“Felix!” Annette screeched so loud that Felix had to turn down his volume. “Oh my god—I think you mean ‘that ship has sailed’—but more importantly, you mean to tell me you had sex with Sylvain and _didn’t tell me_?! What kind of friend are you?”

“Well excuse me for missing that clause in the friendship contract!” Felix said sarcastically. “‘Must inform of any and all sexual relationships.’ My eyes must have just skimmed over the fine print.”

“Whatever, I’m over it now,” Annette said, waving her hand dismissively. “So come on, dish! I want the deets!”

Where to begin? Felix sighed. “Fine. Do you remember when we played kiss or slap?”

“Ah, how could I forget kiss or slap?” Annette smiled a dopey little smile. “It was on the walk home from your room that I told Mercie I had wanted her to kiss me, and then she was like, ‘I wanted to kiss you too,’ and then she _did_ kiss me for the first time!” Annette sighed dreamily at the memory. “It was so romantic!”

“Wait, what?” Felix said, caught off-guard. “You never told me that.”

“I know! It was such a beautiful secret to keep. And then I didn’t go back my own room after all…” Annette trailed off and gazed nostalgically into the middle distance.

“But I… thought your anniversary is in May?”

“Well, yeah, we didn’t get around to making it official for like a week. But why do you mention it?”

“Well, while you were getting kissed by Mercedes, things in my room might have gotten a little... out of hand? Or maybe certain things got…into hands…”

Felix regretted saying it instantly.

“Wait, are you kidding me?” Annette asked shrilly. “Are you actually shitting me right now?”

“No? Why would I make that up?”

“Felix, that was a whole freaking year ago! I thought you just realized you were gay, like, in the past week!”

“I _did_ just realize! I was in that fugue state of denial, remember?”

“Okay, but with this new information it sounds more like a—a fugue state of internalized homophobia or something. Wait, so then—you mean _that’s_ why you and Sylvain stopped being roommates?”

“We just—I—” How the fuck could he explain this? “It just… made it too awkward. I was just—I don’t know, more into it than I should’ve been? And it was just a drunken hookup for him—but whatever. The point is that I thought it was a one time thing, and now it has become a…many…time…thing…?”

Oh no. Felix felt heat rise in his face. He’d accidentally let the sentence reach quite an embarrassing conclusion, hadn’t he?

“Oh my god,” Annette said with some strong but indecipherable emotion. “Oh my god oh my god, did you guys fuck right after my birthday party? Because holy shit, I could totally tell something was up.”

“Um, no. Not... until the next morning, actually?” Felix felt his face burn even brighter.

“Ohhhhh myyyyy goddddd,” she said even more passionately. “Felix, I’m losing my mind.”

“I can see that.” She did, in fact, seem to be vibrating. “But the thing is, like, two days ago—”

“I changed my mind!” Annette interrupted, cringing in alarm. “I don’t need the deets!”

“Ugh, seriously, Annette?” Felix said, exasperated. “I wasn’t about to tell you about giving him a blowjob!”

“I…think you just did.”

Felix considered hanging up on Annette and looking for the Grim Reaper in the phonebook instead.

“But I’m happy for you!” Annette added. “Like, sorry I don’t wanna hear the who put what where, but I’m really happy for you!”

Felix made a sour face. “Don’t know if that’s wise. Maybe you shouldn’t get your hopes up…”

“What? Why not? I love getting my hopes up!”

“Me too, apparently,” Felix mumbled. “Ugh, why am I like this?”

“Like… like what?”

“Like—” Felix put his head in his hands. “I feel… out of control! Like, how are you supposed to—" At the last minute, Felix remembered to keep his own voice down too. Call him paranoid, but he did not want Sylvain overhearing from the living room. "How are you supposed to—to love someone when you know that you’ll never be ready to let them go?”

Annette gave him a small smile. “I think that’s the very definition of loving someone, Felix. And what’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong is that—I don’t know! Everything was going fine, but now it’s like he’s trying to distance himself from me more, somehow—and I had thought we were getting really close, but now he’s… pulling back. And I don’t know why.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t want you to leave…?”

“Or he can’t wait for me to,” Felix said bitterly. “Maybe it didn’t even take a week for him to get bored of me.”

“Dude, why would he not be into you?”

“Uh, because I’m a fucking nightmare? I’m, like, mean to people on purpose.”

Annette snickered. “I know. It’s pretty funny.”

“Not helpful, Annette.”

“Why don’t you just tell him you love him?”

Felix’s throat cinched in an instant.

“You know I don’t… really say that…” Felix trailed off, overcome with panic at how insurmountable that barrier was.

Annette just looked at him. She didn’t even have to say anything.

“I know!” Felix snapped as everything bubbled over. “I already know, okay? I know I have to, but I can’t. Sorry I don’t have a lot of practice. Sorry I’m a little worried to say it when I’ve barely even heard it before in my life. Sorry I’m scared out of my mind to care that much about someone when that just means one more person I could lose—”

“Felix.” Annette put a hand over her heart. “I get it. But… just think of it this way: do you worry about losing me?”

Felix’s next heartbeat was painful. “Yes.”

Annette’s gaze softened. “Oh, Felix.” Bizarrely, she raised her other hand and put it over the camera, making Felix’s screen go black.

“What are you—”

“This is me hugging you right now.”

Felix tried to take a deep breath, but he felt too shaky with desperation. “See, that? That thing you just did? Every time I do something like that, I feel like I’m—I don’t know, fucking telling the universe all my weak points, putting a kick me sign on my back, and then walking away. Like my heart is about to explode, or like I'm about to throw up—”

Annette pulled her hand back, pressing both hands to her chest. “Felix. I get it. Really. It’s okay.”

“Then what do I—”

“Just _practice_ ,” Annette said. “ _Practice._ Practice caring about people without hiding it.”

“I'm trying, but I don’t know how to do that either—”

“Felix.” Annette fixed him with a serious stare. “If I were there, I would hug you right now. And then shake you.”

“No need,” Felix muttered, “I’m already shaking.”

“The point is—” Annette sighed. “The point is that to really love someone, you can’t be afraid of loving them _more_. Because you will. You’ll love them more and more, more than you ever thought possible. And when times are good, it will be amazing, and when times are bad, it will hurt, but you only get to have the good times if you’re willing to love either way. And either way, that comes from _you._ Does that make sense?”

“No,” said Felix. “That’s incomprehensible, and illogical, and I hate that I understand it completely.”

“So just go ahead and do it!” said Annette. “Turn around and unambiguously give the universe a chance to kick you, and maybe it won’t!”

“No,” said Felix. “I cannot do that. I’ve tried.”

Annette rolled her eyes in flabbergasted, speechless frustration. “Then just keep trying to Vulcan mind meld with him during sex or something, I don’t know!”

And then Sylvain’s voice rang out. “Feeeeeeliiiiix! Dinner—”

Felix quickly muted himself in case Sylvain decided to add anything else. Annette was traumatized enough without hearing Sylvain calling him ‘princess’ or something. He quickly texted Annette his excuse.

_sorry, i have to go now_

_sylvain made dinner_

_ok :(_

_enjoy ur food :(_

_osteoporosis :(_

_what?_

_hope you figure out a way soon <3 _

_me too._

_thanks annette_

_of course <3 i love you, you know!!_

_i know._

Annette gave him a small smile as he hung up on the call. Felix stared at the screen. His blood pounded with the desire to try what she had suggested. He hesitated before sending one more message.

_< 3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for one small mention of vomiting. 
> 
> Thank you all for bearing with me as I detest school and find myself unable to do work OR my hobbies. Anyway. 
> 
> About this chapter: lapsed jock Sylvain. anti-military Felix. what more could I, a young man, want.
> 
> I did some major restructuring of these last few chapters, (note the chapter count has increased) and now I have reached the point where I simply NEED to post a new chapter, so here we are! And of course, if you love someone (me), tell them (me) how you feel <3


	31. like water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday, May 14th. Felix tries to find a way to say the things he needs to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in the end notes! If you know me irl, please do look at them.

After dinner that evening, Felix shooed Sylvain away and insisted on cleaning up all the dishes. He used that time desperately trying to come up with a way forward.

Frankly, he was a little mad about it. Like, seriously? Sylvain, a guy world-famous for having said “I love you” to nearly every girl he’d met still wouldn’t say it to him? And after giving Felix so many orgasms that he’d lost count? (Just kidding. It was ten.)

It was insulting. As well as infuriating, and terrifying, and so forth.

So Felix came up with a plan. Not a good one. He certainly wouldn’t call it “smart,” or “advisable,” but at least it was _something_ that he could do. They only had one more full day together. He had to do _something_ before he lost his nerve.

He got ready for bed in the bathroom, psyching himself up in the mirror.

One last thought occurred to him as he turned to leave. One final touch. He had often been told he was 90% legs, and it was time to make use of that fact. He slipped off his pajama bottoms, leaving him in only his boxer briefs and Sylvain’s too-long shirt.

Perfect. Sylvain had said oversized was a good look on him. He could weaponize that too.

Sylvain was sitting in bed and leaning against the wall with his laptop on his thighs when Felix strode in and said, “Bedtime.”

Sylvain didn’t look up. “I’m busy. Just give me ten more minutes.” Of course, it would be just Felix’s luck for Sylvain to choose tonight to lose interest. Felix climbed onto the bed and did his best attempt at an awkward stripper crawl toward Sylvain. Sylvain still didn’t look up.

Annoyed, Felix snapped the laptop shut, almost closing it on Sylvain’s fingers. “No more working,” he said sternly. He moved the laptop aside to the nightstand and then straddled Sylvain’s lap himself, placing his hands on Sylvain’s shoulders.

“I wasn’t even working!” Sylvain protested. “Laptops can be used for entertainment too, you know!”

“Well now _I’m_ on top of your lap and can be used for entertainment.”

“You’re such a brat.”

“Yeah?” Felix leaned in close to Sylvain’s face, like maybe he could intimidate Sylvain into wanting him. “Maybe you should fuck me about it.”

Sylvain just huffed, expression unreadable. “Subtle.”

“Really? I wasn’t aiming for subtle.” Felix settled properly on Sylvain’s thighs—and immediately gave in to the temptation to nuzzle his neck. Because the way Sylvain smelled—between his clean, fluffy, tea tree-shampooed hair and the spicy, peppery scent of his deodorant—already had him ridiculously turned on.

For a second he wondered why he was so affected by it when those scents had never meant anything to him before, but—oh, right. Because it was Sylvain.

He buried his face into the warmth of Sylvain’s skin, the minuscule skin-to-skin contact driving him crazy. “Come on, Sylvain,” he muttered. “Touch me.”

“How bad do you want it?”

Sylvain wanted him to be more overt? Fine.

Felix swallowed his pride and stood up off the bed. He pulled his hair loose from his bun. And then he dropped his underwear to the ground.

He got chills from how Sylvain’s eyes darkened when it hit the floor with a quiet _flump._

Without breaking eye contact, Felix stepped out of the underwear and climbed back onto the bed, in nothing more than Sylvain’s pajama shirt. It hung off of him like the skimpiest nightgown—it hardly covered his ass at all as he crawled on all fours—and Felix was almost certain that Sylvain could see his heart beating out of his chest through it.

For a second, Felix wondered if he even had the guts to go through with this. But Sylvain was watching, and having Sylvain’s undivided attention felt kind of like having everything. He threw a leg over Sylvain’s and straddled the world.

With his knees bracketing Sylvain’s hips, Felix petted his hands up his own taut thighs, putting on a show for Sylvain to watch. He let his fingers catch on the hem of the oversized shirt, dragging it up his thigh and stomach to reveal his half-hard cock underneath. He toyed with it with one hand and kept pulling up the shirt to show off his chest with the other, savoring how Sylvain’s eyes were glued to him.

A hot shudder passed through him. “There,” he said, breathless. “Is that enough for you?”

“Oh, Felix,” Sylvain said, gaze roaming from the hand on his cock to the hand lifting his shirt. “Better be careful, or you’ll ruin me for anyone else.” Felix nearly growled in frustration. _Why do you still want anyone else?_

Desperation emboldening him, he let the shirt fall and moved to cup Sylvain’s jaw, tilting it to make Sylvain look at his face. “Sylvain. I want you to do whatever you want with me tonight.”

“God, you’re some kind of animal,” Sylvain muttered.

“Yeah? What kind?”

“The incredibly horny kind.”

“I don’t see you complaining.” Felix kissed him on the mouth to make sure he couldn’t start now.

At last, Sylvain’s hands brought themselves up to play along his back, running lightly up and down his sides, pulling him subtly closer. Felix let out a quiet moan at just the barest hint of relief. He felt that touch ripple all the way to his toes.

Sylvain broke the kiss, panting softly. “Goddammit Fe, you look so good. Fuck, I can’t stop—”

“Then don’t stop. Just give it to me.” Felix felt the tension in his shoulders dissolve as Sylvain’s touching grew heavier.

Of course, it also made a new kind of tension build in his stomach, blood rushing to fill his cock—but that was just what Felix needed. He let his eyes fall shut, sighing in pleasure as Sylvain gripped his waist and leaned in to kiss his neck—

And then stopped.

“Sorry,” said Sylvain. There was a rough, hungry edge to his voice, a small undercurrent he was trying and failing to hide. “Sorry, you just—you look so good, and I—I can’t help it—”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?” Felix asked. “I already told you what I want.”

Sylvain groaned helplessly and pulled him closer again. Felix knotted his hands in Sylvain’s hair and tried to make it a surprise every time he tugged, because there was an art to sex with Sylvain.

There was an art to making eye contact while coaxing Sylvain’s shirt off, to tracing his fingers over Sylvain’s neck and chest as if manually drawing the gasps out of him. There was a technique to placing kisses all over Sylvain’s face, on his cheeks and nose and forehead in addition to his soft round mouth. There were a million little tricks to keeping him guessing, and secrets to knowing when to speak, and what to say, and when to let his body speak for itself—

And Felix loved it. He had wanted to worship Sylvain’s body from the very first time they had sex, and now he knew how. Much like riding a bike, it had felt innate as soon as he learned it. The devil was in the details, and when it came to loving Sylvain right, Felix was a bit—well, anal about it.

It came so naturally. It just made sense, to be stroking Sylvain’s cheekbone with his thumb as they kissed, rubbing his other hand over Sylvain’s clothed inner thigh to make him moan. It had Felix second-guessing whether he had always known. Because really, he could do this with his eyes closed.

And it felt... beautiful. What kind of sap was he to find sex with Sylvain to be the most beautiful thing in his life?

As Sylvain kissed his neck, Felix reached a hand down to Sylvain’s crotch and rubbed against him, and—yeah, that was a good sign. “Seems like someone’s happy to see me,” he said, smugly pleased. (And aroused out of his mind, because, in case anyone was wondering, Sylvain was definitely a grower.)

Unable to help himself, he went for the bow tying the drawstring of Sylvain’s pajama pants and pulled at one of the ends—slowly, like unwrapping a present.

The bow abruptly sprung open as he tugged it, the knot releasing so fast it seemed to pop open. Felix barely resisted the urge to start grinding his bare ass on Sylvain’s leg, not sure how much longer he could hold it in. “Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath—

Then he felt one of Sylvain’s hands follow the line of his spine all the way down to his tailbone, where it didn’t stop but continued down to press a thick finger into him.

And the finger sunk in with sickening ease, because Felix had already fingered himself and was wet inside. He had used so much lube that he was sure his underwear on the floor tasted like salted caramel.

Felix had selected this plan for exactly three reasons:

1\. Getting fucked by Sylvain in any form always left Felix more relaxed and fearless afterwards—more willing to whisper perilous truths, which was exactly what he was trying to do tonight.

2\. Getting fucked by Sylvain in this _specific_ form hopefully demonstrated that he was paying attention to what Sylvain liked. Sylvain had said last night was amazing, and Felix was willing to do whatever it took to get him to say that again.

3\. Getting fucked by Sylvain.

And yes, Felix would be the first person to admit this plan might not be based entirely in logic. But he wasn’t about to waste time _not_ getting fucked by Sylvain if getting fucked by Sylvain was an option. If he had to practice getting all in his feelings, he sure as hell was going to start while he was feeling good.

He heard the sharp intake of breath as Sylvain realized what he had done. “Oh, hell,” said Sylvain. “Turn around.”

 _Why?_ Why did Sylvain like to fuck him from behind? Was he imagining fucking someone else? But Felix didn’t ask, because he _did_ want Sylvain to do what he wanted.

Truthfully, Felix liked being held like that too. He loved being kissed on the back of his shoulders and being held tight to Sylvain’s chest. Being just a body, with his legs spread open to the air and his face easy to hide.

It wouldn’t be as intimate as he’d hoped, but god, would it feel good. He climbed off of Sylvain’s lap and started to turn around on his knees.

“Actually” —Sylvain held his hips in place— “just put your hands on the wall instead.” Felix’s head spun.

In an instant, his arms were extended straight out in front of him to brace him against the wall as he wiggled his hips, eager for Sylvain to finish undressing already. It was a little horrifying to feel how wet he was between his cheeks just from how they slid against each other when he moved, but there was something satisfying about it, too. Maybe it came from thinking how heavenly it would feel in a moment to let Sylvain slide between them.

Felix looked back over his shoulder as Sylvain got in position behind him to find Sylvain shirtless, just staring at him and palming the tent in his pants. “What are you waiting for?” Felix put one hand to his own asscheek, pulling it aside to expose his hole. “Come and get it.”

Immediately, Sylvain was on him again, hands petting up and down his sides. “Can’t believe you already finger-fucked yourself open for me, you little minx,” he said hoarsely into Felix’s ear. He gathered Felix’s hair into one hand as if he were about to put it in a ponytail, and Felix’s heart raced, because Sylvain _knew_ he didn’t like having his hair pulled, so why would he—

Sylvain’s lips grazed up the back of his neck. And he moaned like a bitch for it. “Ah, ah, Sylvain—”

Then Sylvain’s tongue dragged a slow stripe up the back of his neck. Felix’s hole clenched so tight it _dripped_.

Before he could even process the humiliation of dripping onto Sylvain’s leg, Sylvain’s fingers were there again, rubbing over the curve of his ass and dipping into his crease. The same slick finger from before traced teasingly around his rim before sinking inside.

“Fuck,” Felix couldn’t help but whisper. Finally, sweet relief for the impatient emptiness that had been throbbing inside like an open wound—if a wound was something that wanted to be sliced into, again, and again, and again.

Felix turned his face and pressed his forehead to one of his biceps as he panted. He was already moving his hips with Sylvain’s finger inside him. “Another,” he demanded.

Sylvain obliged him, and the second finger sank in as easily as the first, slipping in so smooth that it barely registered as a change in Felix’s brain.

“Another.”

Sylvain pulled his fingers out and sank in three on the return, eliciting a moan from Felix at the delicious shock of being spread open.

“Another—”

“Jesus Christ, Felix, you know my dick is actually a bit smaller than my whole hand, right?” Sylvain released Felix’s hair in favor of petting over his stomach and thighs, passing teasingly over his cock on the way from one to the other. Sylvain rutted his clothed erection against Felix’s ass alongside his hand, and the fabric felt decadently soft against his skin.

And then Sylvain apparently thought better of it. He pulled his fingers out of Felix with a wet slurp, pulled his pants down to his knees, and fit his newly bared legs between Felix’s to nudge them further apart. A whimper escaped Felix at the unmistakable touch of Sylvain’s cock prodding his skin.

As if that weren’t overwhelming enough, he kept feeling Sylvain’s other hand on his back hastily pawing at him, pushing the shirt farther up, and he didn’t think it was because it was getting in the way.

The idea that Sylvain was doing it for the visual alone made his heart beat double time.

 _Good_ , Felix thought. _Make my heart pound. Tire it out. Exhaust me so I can tell you tonight._

He rubbed his ass back against Sylvain’s hips, letting the insane amount of lube he had used smear up the length of Sylvain’s dick. The underside of it slid up along the cleft of his ass, until finally the head of it caught his rim just right. He tilted his hips, ready for Sylvain to push in like last time—

But Sylvain didn’t. “What’s the rush?” Sylvain asked, rubbing the tip of his cock teasingly under Felix’s hole. The hot brand of it touching him there without entering was some sort of torture.

Felix gritted his teeth. They didn’t have time for this. “Sylvain.”

“Yes?”

“Why aren’t you fucking me yet?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“I’m _not_ asking. I’m telling you. Just fuck me already.”

“I’m not hearing a please.”

“Oh, fuck you, you’re such a bastard,” Felix snapped, losing patience. “Stop with the teasing and just fuck me already. I’ll say whatever you want, just fuck me. You want me to say please? _Please._ Don’t make me use the fucking safeword just to tell you that I don’t agree to anything but you fucking me so deep that I forget my own name. So just fuck off with the foreplay. I don’t need it.”

Sylvain chuckled. “Wow, Fe. Usually takes much longer to get you begging.”

“I’m not patient tonight,” said Felix. The blunt tip of Sylvain’s cock was pressing against him, hot and hard as steel, and he was so fucking done for. “So just—green. Just fucking go.”

Sylvain pulled his hips down to his lap and slid his cock in to the hilt.

All thought snuffed out. Felix groaned as his body parted around it. His hands slid down the wall, leaving wet little handprints on the paint in front of him.

It felt like necessary relief; he had been burning up inside with the need to sit on Sylvain’s cock again.

While Felix shuddered and panted to adjust, willing his muscles to relax as he eased into sitting down fully on Sylvain’s lap, Sylvain stayed blessedly still, stroking his skin all over. Felix’s ass was flush with the tops of Sylvain’s thighs as they knelt together, in the same position that Felix had first let Sylvain touch him in, except better, because he got to have Sylvain inside, in addition to behind and under and around him.

Sylvain’s cock was always so maddeningly hot to the touch, always full and heavy, scratching a base itch Felix hadn’t known he’d been carrying around all his life. And the ache, the terrible vulnerability of having it inside—he hated it. He loved it. He wanted to share it only with Sylvain.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so open for it,” came Sylvain’s low voice over his shoulder. “Tell me how it feels.”

For some god-forsaken reason, the only thing Felix could think to say back was, “I like it. I like it so much, Sylvain, please, please just—” So clearly his plan was working. He was out of his mind after just one minute of Sylvain’s dick in him.

Then Sylvain started to move, and the ache melted seamlessly into pleasure. If it hadn’t been pleasure just waiting to be released all along.

The warmth bloomed from the inside, building up in Felix’s belly until he was feeling it all through his legs and chest and face. Sylvain’s dick seemed to touch new places in him constantly, making him feel swollen with it, tender and sensitive in all the worst ways. It felt like heaven, and torture, and—

Well. It felt like getting fucked. Some things don’t feel like anything else.

Felix picked himself up and slid his body back down to meet Sylvain’s grinding. His asscheeks started going pleasantly numb from clapping down onto Sylvain’s lap as he picked up the pace. Some addictive, heady feeling washed over him at the thought that even when he was the one getting fucked, he was on top, in command. Even if he still couldn’t get his legs to stop trembling. Or so he told himself.

“See? I’m riding you,” he panted out, not slowing for an instant.

“I can see that,” Sylvain said. “Fucking hell, Felix, what’s gotten into you?”

“You have.”

A deep, forceful thrust of Sylvain’s hips rocked his body forward with its force. They moaned in unison.

Felix let out a low laugh, too flooded with endorphins to keep it in. “Damn, you really like it like this, don’t you?”

By now Felix knew what kind of motion Sylvain liked—painfully slow, to draw it out for as long as possible—but fuck, was it hard to stay composed and calculating with Sylvain grinding up into his ass, so gentle it was cruel. He drowned in the sensation—especially as Sylvain started asking him how it felt, saying, “Like this?” and “Feels good, huh?” in his stupid, infuriating, electrifying sexy voice.

And Felix answered, too, even though he knew Sylvain wasn’t really asking for an answer. “Yeah, it—it feels really good. Ah...” His eyes kept slipping shut. He wanted Sylvain to talk to him again. To fill his mind in addition to his body. “Just—keep talking.”

A huff of laughter left Sylvain. “Words I never thought I’d hear you say.”

Felix gasped when Sylvain’s hand slid between his legs. Sylvain exhaled hard upon finding him already wet with precome. “Messy little slut,” he breathed, sounding wickedly awed. “Not everyone wants me to use them like this, you know.”

Sylvain’s hand was always shockingly soft on his dick as he stroked it, but the juxtaposition was particularly incredible in this position: Sylvain fucked deep into his ass and simultaneously massaged the shaft of his cock like he adored it. “Ah, yes, like that,” Felix murmured in approval.

“ _You_ love it like this,” Sylvain said with a low chuckle, lips brushing his ear. “You go pink all over when I put it in, you know. My dick’s done a lot of things, but you’re the only one who fucking _glows_ from it.”

He was right; Felix loved letting Sylvain fuck him like a toy, and fuck him until he came, and fuck him until the come trickled down to his tailbone.

But that meant he wanted the intimacy of laying on his back again, too.

Suddenly Felix couldn’t keep up the shameless front anymore, couldn’t act in control or pretend that this exercise wasn’t for him as much as it was for Sylvain. “Take me laying down,” he panted. He lifted off of Sylvain’s lap, although it pained him to leave the space Sylvain had carved inside him so empty again, even momentarily.

His breath caught when Sylvain held him as he turned around, his hands catching Felix’s back and lowering him softly onto the mattress. “You’re so cute, babe,” said Sylvain, a complicated little smile on his face. “Can’t believe you want it in missionary position.”

“Please, please,” Felix found himself helplessly whispering as he lay on his back, legs spread. “Fill me, kiss me—” _Keep me_.

Sylvain slid back in, and Felix saw colors he was pretty sure he’d never seen before. He closed his eyes, unable to handle all the input at once. “God, Felix,” Sylvain was grunting, “you feel so good. Being so good for me like this.”

Felix’s entire body tingled, ramping up to orgasm absurdly fast. He hissed from the intensity of the sensation, and then distracted himself by pulling Sylvain’s face to his. “Hurry, hurry up, keep going, fuck, fuck, fuck—” He couldn’t focus past the wildly hot concept that Sylvain was _feeling good_ inside him and _enjoying_ sheathing his cock in his body, because holy shit _—_

He kissed Sylvain as best as he could in this state, biting his lips and moaning into his mouth, loving how obvious and unquiet Sylvain’s reactions were as their tongues met.

When this all started, Felix had thought that he was the only reactive one. But as he’d slowly learned Sylvain’s body and mind, he’d gotten better at drawing out the expressive sensuality Sylvain seemed to have been holding back.

Each sound fell right into place, in sweet harmony with his feet swaying in the air with each thrust, his insides melting under the feeling of Sylvain’s dick dragging back and forth inside him. Sylvain’s moans felt so good on his brain.

Of course, Felix was still the louder of the two of them—he couldn’t help the whining and panting and groaning that rose up in his throat—but he didn’t mind, because that was part of the trick to getting Sylvain panting and groaning, too.

And it didn’t feel like work or effort at all. Now all he had to do was just _think_ of how he wanted to affect Sylvain and his hands would move on instinct—stroking the shell of his ear or digging nails into his shoulders—and it was like magic. He wanted to see Sylvain’s eyes cloud over—they did. He wanted to hear Sylvain’s breath hitch—it did. He told Sylvain, “Want you to come for me.” He did.

He felt Sylvain spill into him, hot and sticky and dirty. Felix gasped, legs trembling, trying to stave off this own impending orgasm for as long as possible—needing to outlast Sylvain if only by a little—

And when Felix’s orgasm hit, it really fucking hit _._

Heat seared through Felix’s center, from his neck to his stomach to his clenching hole. He got completely lost in it, not even sure what sound was coming out of him as he came, overflowing onto Sylvain’s hand and his own stomach.

Sylvain kept touching him through the orgasm, rubbing his cock until the pleasure burned—almost to the point of pain, except that they’d done this enough times that Sylvain had an impeccable sense of how to stop just as Felix started feeling oversensitive.

Felix opened his eyes some time later, not sure how long he’d been out. His head was turned to the side and his mouth softly open. Sylvain was still inside him, and above him, looking down tenderly and stroking his hair.

He could hear and feel the come squelch out of him as Sylvain gently withdrew to clean them both up. He should have found it gross, but it just made him feel tingly thinking of Sylvain feeling good enough inside him to leave proof.

Once they had both slipped into clean underwear, Felix hesitated to cuddle up to Sylvain. His heart was pounding, foolishly wishing Sylvain would initiate it. But Sylvain just lay beside him.

It really _was_ foolish of him, Felix realized; even after all those times when he had fallen asleep in Sylvain’s arms, Sylvain had always rolled away from him by the time morning came. How fruitless a feeling, wanting this to be more.

But even the wanting made Felix feel full, in a way. He would gladly fall asleep an inch away from Sylvain every night to feel this ache.

Unless he didn’t have to.

With a jolt, Felix remembered that he’d had a goal in all this. His heart was still pounding like he’d just run a marathon. It couldn’t possible beat any harder, right?

“Sylvain,” he said quietly. Sylvain kept his eyes closed and reassuringly stroked his arm, not seeming to realize that he was trying to get his attention. “Sylvain,” he said more urgently.

“Yes?”

 _I love you._ The words were right there, ready to roll off of his tongue. _I love you._

He still couldn’t get himself to say it. But maybe he could get close.

“Do you toss and turn a lot at night?”

Sylvain stiffened. “Uh, no? Clearly not, since I haven’t slapped you in my sleep or anything.”

“Then” —Felix gathered his courage— “why do you always move away from me in the night?”

“Oh,” said Sylvain. The few seconds of silence that followed were deafening. “I just... didn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“But I… I get cold without you,” Felix said. “So you should stay.” It felt like saying, _Here is the easiest way to hurt me. Please don’t do it._

Immediately he wished he could retract it. He cringed, bracing himself for—for what? For Sylvain to tell him to put his clothes back on?

To his immense relief, Sylvain said, “Okay,” and scooted in closer, wrapping Felix in his arms. Every cell of Felix’s body seemed to exhale.

“Yeah. That helps,” he dared to say. “Thanks. I...”

“Y’know, actually—” Sylvain pulled away from him and rolled out of bed.

Felix’s pulse spiked with panic. He sat up in bed. “No, wait, Sylvain—” Sylvain was standing in front of the dresser, pulling open a drawer. Exactly as Felix had feared.

“Here!” Sylvain turned around and bounded back onto the bed, a pair of fuzzy socks in hand. “Since you never wear socks to bed.”

“What? But I” —Felix nearly stopped himself, but he forged onward, doubling down on the dangerous truth— “I would rather you just cuddle me.”

“But this can’t hurt either, right?”

Felix gave the socks a long, dubious look to make sure they were not minion or emoji movie related in any way—before remembering that did not affect his decision at all. “Sylvain,” he said bluntly. “I don’t wear socks to bed.”

“Why not?”

“Because I hate wearing socks to bed. I hate wearing socks, period.”

“Just tryyyy ittttt—” Sylvain edged closer. Felix snarled in warning, but it had no effect. Sylvain tried to yank the covers off of him—which Felix resisted, obviously—so Sylvain then lay down next to him and grabbed at his feet from under the covers while Felix kicked at him. “Just—just stay still!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Sylvain gave up after several minutes of struggling, during which time he had gotten both of the socks onto Felix’s feet—multiple times—only to have Felix rip them off as soon as his feet were free and nearly kick Sylvain in the balls several times “by accident”.

“Why won’t you just wear the damn socks?” Sylvain pleaded, rubbing his nose against Felix’s back as though it might convince him. “Your feet get so cold at night!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you applying your ice cold feet to my ankles every night, you fucking lizard!”

Felix turned around and blinked at him in confusion. “Is—is that why you won’t cuddle me? Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Sylvain blinked back at him in equal and opposite confusion. “ _I_ won’t cuddle _you_?”

“Um, yeah? You’re the one who fucks off to who knows where by the time I wake up! I’m literally telling you to cuddle with me, and you’re giving me socks!”

“You… are?”

Felix thought he might really be losing it then. “Yes! Like, hello, earth to Sylvain! Why did you think I’ve been cuddling you every single night for, like, who knows how many nights in a row?”

“B-because you’re just being nice to me?”

Felix did knee him in the stomach then.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Sylvain. _I am categorically not nice to you_ ,” Felix said, emphasizing every word before realizing this was probably not in his best interest to emphasize. “And you’re a fucking fool, because _I’m_ the one initiating all the cuddling, and _you’re_ the one who apparently only wants to cuddle in small doses after sex!”

“No, I’m happy to cuddle you!”

“Then why are you forcing me to wear socks?!”

“Because if you get cold, and then you make me cold” —Sylvain gestured incoherently— “why won’t you just put on socks for both of our sakes?!”

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t even know it was a problem! I can just not put my feet on you! Or you can make a fucking hot water bottle, if it bothers you that much!”

“A hot water bottle?”

“Yeah? If there’s something else warm for me to put my feet on, you could just cuddle me without having to strap my feet in those—those fucking fuzzy straitjackets—”

Once again, Sylvain rolled out of bed while Felix was still talking. He strode out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

Felix sighed at the ceiling, not even sure what to feel at this point.

It occurred to him that this was an argument he never would have pictured himself having, especially not with him on the pro-cuddling side. The whole debate would’ve been beneath his dignity if he’d still had any, but alas, he didn’t.

Then Sylvain walked back in, much sooner than expected, with a reusable plastic water bottle in his hand. Did he think Felix had gone mad from dehydration...?

He marched over and stood in front of the bed in his boxers. “Here,” he said, holding the bottle out to Felix, who automatically accepted it.

It was just barely warm in his hands.

“Sylvain,” Felix said, an incredulous smile spreading across his face, “not only are you are fucking fool. You also don’t know what a hot water bottle is.”

For a second, Sylvain just stared at him, making a very funny face of unhappiness. And then he insisted, “I—I know what a hot water bottle is! I’ve seen one before! I know!”

“Okay, what is it?”

“It’s—you know! The… the thing you use for cold feet!”

“Mm-hmm. And what is it made out of?”

“It’s just… water… and… warmth…”

Felix pulled Sylvain into bed on top of him and tugged him into a kiss. Sylvain wiggled, weakly protesting even as he let Felix kiss him. “I appreciate you putting lukewarm water from the sink into a water bottle for me,” Felix purred into his ear. “It’s so white and American of you.”

“You’re American, too!”

“Not through any fault of my own. I acknowledge it. It’s one of my greatest flaws.”

“Oh my god.” Sylvain got under the covers next to him again and pulled them tight around himself, pouting. “Goodnight.”

Felix laughed, so fond of him that it was too much to hold in. “You know this is the stupidest fight we’ve ever had, right?”

“I dunno,” Sylvain said stubbornly. “We’ve had a lot of stupid fights.”

_I want to have more._

“Hey, don’t be grumpy,” he said kindly, rubbing Sylvain’s back with both hands. “I’m saying I appreciate you, my dumb little idiot man.”

“This isn’t fair,” said Sylvain, crossing his arms. “I’m being hate-crimed.”

“If you admit you don’t know what a hot water bottle is, I’ll put on the socks and we can cuddle all night long,” Felix offered.

“Okay. Fine,” Sylvain said, rolling over to grab him in a gruff hug. “Maybe it’s a little fair.”

Felix pressed his feet to Sylvain’s calves, just for fun, and—wait. Sylvain didn’t even react. Because they always cuddled like this.

Oh. Okay, admittedly, Felix was starting to think that he had been leeching Sylvain’s heat all along. Subconsciously, but—

“You’re doing it on purpose this time, aren’t you?” Sylvain accused.

“Just give me the socks.” Felix put on the socks (despite hating them) and felt proud of himself (despite not accomplishing his goal tonight). Baby steps.

Oh. It was too bad that this was a baby step and they only had one more night. If only they’d had more time, Felix would have baby-stepped his way to Sylvain forever.

But it was a baby step. Felix relaxed into Sylvain's arms and pressed their foreheads together.

He was so overcome with happiness at the thought that Sylvain would hug him all night long that his body didn’t even know what to do with it. He squeezed Sylvain tighter in his arms. He sighed into Sylvain’s neck. He closed his eyes and felt so at peace that he knew he could fall asleep instantly if he chose to.

He chose not to, and preferring to stay awake and enjoy looking at Sylvain’s skin in the dark.

Felix knew a lot of people had seen Sylvain’s body. But had anyone really seen it the way he did?

Felix secretly had a map in his mind of all he had discovered on Sylvain’s body. He wished he were an artist. If only he could draw, he would’ve been able draw Sylvain from memory with the accuracy of a medical diagram.

He had all the tiny brown freckles memorized from top to bottom: One just behind Sylvain’s left ear, three on the back of his neck near his right shoulder blade, and one on the back of his left arm, on his tricep, where Sylvain himself would probably never notice it.

A little brown circle on the back of each hand, though they weren’t symmetrical; on his right hand it was near the thumb, and on the left it was below the knuckle of his ring finger. Felix idly stroked his thumb over the one on Sylvain’s right hand as he reached to hold it, fingers interlaced.

There were three freckles on the left side of Sylvain’s waist along his iliac crest, where Felix liked to rest his hands, and one above his right knee that Felix always made sure to kiss when he got the chance.

And one tiny mark on the inside of his left ankle, right on the bone. It was so small that Felix hadn’t discovered it until he had kissed all the way up Sylvain’s calf and unbuckled the strap of the shoe on his foot.

On top of that physical, topographical map, Felix overlaid his own mental map: a layer of memories and fantasy, a map of the places on Sylvain that were invisible to the naked eye yet charged with meaning.

The slope of his neck, where Felix had first given him a hickey after kiss or slap. His earlobes, which Sylvain so enjoyed having kissed, where Felix imagined Sylvain would look good with piercings. If Sylvain wanted that. If they ever got to a piercing place again.

There was the centerline of Sylvain’s abs, low on his stomach, just below his navel, which Felix had once seen open up in his dreams like a wet mouth, split monstrously wide. In the dream, Felix had thrust his hand into that gory opening and down to the elbow, trying to find… _something_ up by Sylvain’s throat. He no longer remembered what that _something_ had been.

And there was the part of Sylvain’s chest that Felix did not dare to press his ear to, though he imagined sleeping with his head on Sylvain’s chest one day. He slept better with the metronome of Sylvain’s heartbeat surrounding him.

And then there were the scars. Physical marks with histories of their own, which existed on both maps at once.

One mysterious pearly scar on Sylvain’s left knee—probably innocent, the result of childhood clumsiness—and a mark on his cheek that looked like an acne scar left over from puberty. It had continued slowly fading for as long as Felix had known him, so Felix barely counted it, but he would remember it anyway.

And then all the marks that were clearly deliberate. Little pale lines on the backs of his forearms. A round little burn on his leg.

And the long, thin line of scar tissue down the left side of his back. Felix knew exactly where it came from.

It was just faint enough that it was only visible in the sunlight. He had felt his heart break in two when he first noticed it, had nearly cried thinking of Sylvain carrying that line on the skin behind his heart. He had traced the line with his finger until he felt Sylvain stiffen at the touch. (That was when he’d started writing “ _loved you all this time,”_ on Sylvain’s back, though he’d only gotten through one word before Sylvain noticed and he had to stop.)

He had seen it again today as Sylvain stood at the edge of the pool, with his back turned and arms spread wide, fearlessly exposed, saying _take me_. In Felix’s mind, there was nothing more powerful. No matter what happened tonight, Felix was sure he would remember that image for the rest of his life.

Felix jealously liked to imagine that he was the only one with this map in his head, the only one who looked at Sylvain and saw so much. He traveled through these locations in his mind, hoping they would never lose the potency they had now to make him feel so fucking much. He had never realized feeling so much could be a good thing.

But nevertheless, here he was: so happy with just the small bit of progress they had made tonight, so happy that he wanted to time to stop on this moment, even if it meant he had to wear socks forever.

And just as he was about to allow himself to sleep, Sylvain whispered, “Hey Felix?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you ever sing in front of me again?” Sylvain sounded... oddly hesitant? Felix wondered if he had sounded like that a moment ago too.

“Sure,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Felix cleared his throat. And then he sang, slow and soothing. “ _Don’t wanna be an American idiot..._ ”

“I take it back. Go the fuck to sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for explicit sexual content and referenced past abuse.
> 
> If you know me irl, I recommend skipping to "Felix hesitated to cuddle up to Sylvain".
> 
> Well, here's part 2 of the previous chapter which got way too long! This chapter is dedicated to all the Native people who hate that today is celebrated as a holiday, all the people who have to see people they don't want to see today, and all the people who are not seeing the people they want to see because they're observing social distancing. Sorry to anyone who actually likes America, but no <3 
> 
> As always, please do let me know if you see typos (or just have other feedback! Thank you!!)


	32. love in limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday, May 14th - Friday, May 15th. Felix and Sylvain both remember previous Thursday nights and help each other sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings in end notes! Please check them if you know me irl.

_Junior year. September, 2019._

_A week into the semester, Sylvain’s new apartment still didn’t feel like home._

_He should have been happy. Like, thank god only freshmen and sophomores were required to live on campus, right? He had a place all to himself now! Complete freedom to be a slob, and sleep naked, and have sex as loud as he wanted! Not that he was a slob, but still! No roommate to sexile!_

_But somehow that made it… less fun?_

_In retrospect, it had always made Sylvain laugh when he would text Felix their signal—the door emoji, since there was no sock emoji to properly represent “sock on doorknob”—and get the eye-roll emoji back almost instantly. (Or the unamused emoji. Or the puke emoji. Or the angry emoji.)_

_Fine. Maybe he was a little lonely. So what? That was a problem he knew how to fix._

_Sylvain considered finding a date on tinder or something, but that didn’t feel right. He had done that over the summer—and also last night—and it hadn’t felt satisfying._

_He didn’t want to know the person’s name._

_So he decided to go to a bar instead—the one right near campus reputed to let anyone in and only card people if they sat there for too long without buying an overpriced drink._

_And that was like, killing three birds for the price of one! He could go out, get drunk, and possibly find someone else looking for company. Maybe he could find a couple looking for a third. (Did anyone look for a guy as the third?)_

_He pregamed with a bottle of wine (which his parents had given him, because unrepentant alcoholics thought buying wine for someone was equivalent to caring for them) before leaving._

_The only problem was that the bar didn’t let him in._

_No, wait, they did let him in. The problem was that they… kicked him out after buying one drink?_

_Or maybe they let him in and then kicked him out after realizing how drunk he already was. Or maybe he ordered the drink and then didn’t have his wallet. Or maybe he propositioned someone in the bathroom and then got kicked out for harassment._

_Sylvain couldn’t actually remember the flow of events and which parts he had made up in his head, but one way or another, he must have bitten off more than he could chew. Like he always did._

_(“Your eyes are bigger than your mouth,” Felix had used to chastise him whenever he couldn’t resist buying snacks at the convenience store. “And with your mouth, that’s really saying something.” Sylvain had never told Felix that the idiom was actually “eyes bigger than your stomach.” In fact, he’d hoped Felix would never find out. He liked that Felix had reinvented it for him—)_

_Regardless of what happened exactly, the end result was Sylvain being tossed out onto the sidewalk again._

_Well, this sucked major ass! Now he was outrageously drunk, standing on a street-corner on a Thursday night, and no less alone than he had been an hour ago._

_“Sylvain?” said a voice coming from a direction._

_How did the bartender—no, wait, bouncer, because he was outside now—know his name?_

_And why was it Ingrid?_

_“Ingrid? You work here?” Sylvain asked, brain blurry. A hand grabbed his arm and tugged him in a direction similar to the one the voice had come from. Sylvain had to stare at his feet to avoid falling and couldn’t really tell where he was being dragged, because he didn’t really remember which way he’d been facing when he stumbled out of the bar. Or which way the bar faced, for that matter. “Sorry, I don’t know my Never Eat Soggy Waffles right now—”_

_“Sylvain!” A hand snapped in front of his face, making him look up._

_“Ingrid!” he said, perking up at the sight of her face even though she was glaring him. “It really is you!”_

_“Uh, yeah, I sure hope it is! Or were you planning to let just about anyone drag you wherever they pleased?”_

_“Yeah!”_

_Ingrid did an actual, honest-to-god double-take. “Uh, yep, that’s it, we’re having an intervention.”_

_“Ooh, for who?”_

_“For you, dumbass!” She linked arms with him and continued escorting him down the sidewalk, pulling a face as he stumbled beside her. “Jesus Christ, how much have you had to drink?”_

_“Uh… less than seven?”_

_“Shit. What’s the last thing you ate?”_

_“Does come count?”_

_“No, it fucking doesn’t!” Ingrid said angrily._

_Sylvain didn’t much like when people were angry. “Hey, relax, it was just a joke!” he said, although he seriously couldn’t remember whether he’d blown someone in the bathroom._

_“With you, Sylvain, it’s really hard to tell! And didn’t you say you had your first quiz tomorrow?!”_

_Ah. He had texted her that, hadn’t he? “Jeez, it’s fiiiiine!” he drawled. “I like to set expectations low, you know? Then sometimes professors say nice things to me when I do better at the end of the semester. It’s like being a reverse disappointment!”_

_Ingrid sighed tersely. “I hate how much that tracks for you.”_

_The next thing Sylvain knew, they were seated in the crêperie near campus, and Sylvain was devouring a crêpe that definitely contained ingredients. Probably including nutella. When he looked up from his feeding frenzy, Ingrid was watching him with one eyebrow raised and a look of mixed fascination, disgust, and amusement on her face, having already finished her own crêpe. “Feel better?” she asked._

_Sylvain took a moment to process. “Was I... not feeling well before?”_

_“You said the words, ‘I wish they still made condoms out of intestines, because I would let them use mine.’ So I’d wager that no, you were not feeling too good.”_

_“Ah.” Sylvain chuckled sheepishly. “It’s pretty funny though, right?”_

_Ingrid didn’t laugh. “Sylvain. What’s going on with you, seriously?”_

_“I’m fiiiine—”_

_“You are not fine,” she said. “The Sylvain I knew last year didn’t go out alone to get drunk anymore. So what the fuck is going on?”_

_Sylvain rubbed the back of his neck. He found himself unable to come up with anything but a version of the truth._

_“I… I’m starting to think I’m not as straight as I… used to think I was straight...?” He nervously looked up to gauge Ingrid’s reaction._

_Her eyebrows were much higher up her forehead than he remembered. “You thought you were straight?” she asked._

_“Ingrid!” he whined. “I’m serious!”_

_“Sorry! I was seriously asking! Because you—y’know. Flirt with everyone? So why—”_

_“Felix.” Sylvain laughed hoarsely. “Felix isn’t talking to me. Because I kinda—god, I can’t even think about it—I think I—” Self-loathing boiled up in him as he looked down at his hands._

_But even deeper than that was sadness: a whole well of it, unacknowledged and immeasurably deep. “I just—I miss him. I miss talking with him. I miss how we all hung out together. I miss his smile, and that he actually liked my stupid humor, and that I could, like, actually tell him when I was feeling bad. I miss feeling like someone knew me and somehow still cared about me anyway, and—”_

_Sylvain word-vomited for several more minutes about Felix. About missing him, missing talking with him, missing his smile, missing having someone who genuinely liked his stupid humor, someone who actually let him share his negative emotions—he realized he was repeating himself around the fourth time he was repeating himself._

_When he ran out of words to spew, Ingrid just looked at him and said, “Okay. How is hooking up with randos supposed to help with any of that?”_

_Sylvain put his head down on the table in defeat. “It doesn’t. It isn’t helping.” He let out a miserable, hiccuping laugh. On anyone else it would’ve been a sob, but Sylvain had never learned how to stop smiling._

_Ingrid awkwardly patted his head and sighed. “So, like, here’s the thing: I’m not going to tell you not to be sad, because honestly... I know Felix, and I would be devastated to lose him, too. But he’s not the only friend you have, right?”_

_Sylvain lifted his head and blinked at her._

_“Me,” said Ingrid flatly. “I’m talking about me. I like your stupid humor! I know and care about you! You don’t have to always be peppy around me! And what about Dimitri? And Mercedes, and Dedue, and Ashe? You have people who you can talk to. So please, talk to us, instead of trying to drink and fuck your feelings away. And I...”_

_She trailed off and massaged her forehead, looking... regretful?_

_“I know I maybe haven’t been there for you as much as I could have. But I would like if we spent more time together, too. So can we? Can we make a pact to have dinner together once a week or something? I’m sorry I didn’t think to do this back when we were actually suitemates—”_

_“Ingrid, I love you,” Sylvain said on impulse. “No hetero,” he added, because he was winedrunk and shockingly unhorny considering how winedrunk he was, “but I love you, like, so much? I can’t believe someone like you gives a shit about someone like me.”_

_“What the hell? Of course I give a shit about you,” Ingrid said, looking oddly emotional herself. “And what’s with the ‘someone like you’ and ‘someone like me’ bullshit? I’m pretty sure there’s only one of each of us. But, um…” She fidgeted with her hair. “Thanks for saying so. The love thing.”_

_Ingrid was an awkward hugger, but she gave Sylvain a hug as they stood to leave their booth. Sylvain hugged her back tightly, and she was right: hugging the right people felt better than fucking the wrong ones. (Okay, maybe she hadn’t said that exactly, but it was true.)_

_“Sylvain, you’re kind of crushing me!” she wheezed._

_“Whoops. Sorry. I’ll keep that in mind for next time. Also… what kind of crêpe was that?”_

_“Nutella. You ordered it.”_

_“Aha! I knew there was nutella in it!”_

_“Sylvain, I say this with the utmost lovingkindness in my heart, but... on god, bro, we’re gonna get you therapy.”_

_“Sounds good.”_

_They walked home together with their arms linked, and home was Ingrid and Dimitri’s twin beds pushed together, with Sylvain passed out in the middle._

* * *

_Junior year. Fall semester, 2019._

_Felix knew that laying on his bed mindlessly scrolling through the group chat no one used anymore was a terrible habit, but he still found himself doing it._

_It was his fault it was dead; he never responded in it. He now had a smaller group chat with Annette, Mercedes, Dedue and Ashe—as well as the old one from high school with just Dimitri and Ingrid—but mostly people just texted him individually now._

_He wondered if Sylvain, Dimitri and Ingrid had a group chat without him, too._

_Just then, Annette burst into their room so literally that the door bounced off the wall and nearly hit her in the face. She stopped in the doorway, hands on her hips, drenched to the bones with rain. “Felix!” she said, exasperated. “I thought you said you would go out today!”_

_“I did go out,” he replied. “I went to class and came back.”_

_“I thought the understanding was that you would like, talk to a classmate or eat lunch in the cafeteria or something! Seriously, you can’t keep isolating yourself like this.”_

_“Why not? I’m so good at it.”_

_Annette balled her hands into fists and stomped on the ground with all the fury her five foot nothing frame could hold. “Grrr, I hate when you get like this! Why can’t you just talk to me for a minute?”_

_“I’m an introvert,” he said emotionlessly._

_“But you’re not a rock! You’re not a piece of furniture! You never do anything for fun anymore!”_

_“Sorry I’m less fun than you expected.”_

_“That’s not the problem!” she yelled. “I’m worried about you, you—you—”_

_Felix found it darkly funny that she couldn’t think of a fitting insult. Neither of them were good with words._

_“You barely even talk to me!” she went on. “I frickin’ LIVE with you and I miss you! I tried to give you time, but like, time’s up, man! What’s going on? Are you having a depressive episode? I’m not even being flippant, I’m like, truly asking!”_

_Felix kept his expression apathetic. “Will you leave me alone if I say yes?”_

_Annette looked aghast. “No! Because if you are, I’m not going to let you wallow in it!”_

_“Fine!” he snapped, throwing his phone aside. “What do I have to do to convince you I’m not wallowing?”_

_“You have to—to do an activity with me!” Annette declared, waving a finger threateningly. “Not right now, of course—I have class in ten minutes—but I’ll keep you posted!” She whirled to dash from the room without ever really entering it._

_And Felix realized that she’d run back to their room in the fifteen minutes between classes just to check on him._

_In the rain._

_“Annette, wait!”_

_She reappeared in the doorway. “What?!”_

_“You forgot your umbrella.”_

_“I don’t have an umbrella.”_

_“Well then” —Felix sighed and got out of bed— “you forgot my umbrella.”_

_Annette gave him a weak smile, accepted the umbrella, and left._

_Later that afternoon, Annette bounced back into their room in a much better mood. “Heya, Felix! I have a plan for this evening that I think you might want in on!”_

_“You sure you want me in on it? God always thwarts my plans.”_

_“Well, we’ll just have to make this one fool-proof! No, god-proof!” Annette looked so excited that he couldn’t bear to tell her no._

_“Fine, what is it?”_

_“I’m gonna go get my ears pierced!” she squealed. “C’mon, you have to come with me! You’re my most piercingested friend!”_

_“I suppose it is twenty dollar Tuesday…”_

_They crossed campus, sharing his umbrella._

_As they passed the quad, Felix spotted a shock of red hair and flinched violently. “Shit, is that—”_

_“Leonie?” said Annette._

_“Oh. I, uh, thought I saw a… large dog?” Annette didn’t question him. He inwardly heaved a sigh of relief._

_They went the rest of the way to the bus stop without incident. (Annette had offered to drive, but Felix had advised her otherwise. “There’s no parking at this place. Seriously, I’m not just saying that.”)_

_The bus stop was where he spotted Sylvain for real._

_Felix swiftly yanked Annette to hide behind the bus stop with him (even though it meant standing in the rain instead of under shelter)._

_“Okay, for real, what is going on with you?” Annette demanded, peeking back around the bus stop. “Are you... hiding from Sylvain again?”_

_“Again? There’s no again!” Felix said, panicking. “There was no first time to have a second time!”_

_“I would love to believe you, but that was the sketchiest denial I have ever seen from you, and I’ve seen you deny borrowing a ponytail holder from me while I could see it on your wrist. So seriously, what’s going on?”_

_Felix’s shoulders slumped. “I... yeah. I’m avoiding Sylvain.”_

_Annette’s whole demeanor drooped like she was sad to be proven right. “Can I ask why?”_

_“Annette, I... I don’t want to lie to you.”_

_“Then don’t.”_

_Felix had managed to push this conversation off all summer, but it had been easier to dodge the questions at a distance. Even after all the that time spent mentally preparing his answers, he still barely knew what to say. “I… I want to be honest with you. I do. And I am being honest, I wouldn’t lie to you—”_

_“So where’s the ‘but’ in all of this?”_

_“But… it’s more trouble than it’s worth.” Felix shoved the hand not holding the umbrella into his pocket. “We... just don’t get along anymore. And there’s nothing I can do about it, and he doesn’t seem to want to do anything about it either, so this is just the way it is now.” He wished he could hide his other hand too. He was sure Annette could see it gripping the umbrella handle white-knuckled._

_Annette nodded, but there was still concern on her face. “You can tell me anything, Felix. You know that, right?”_

_“I know. I know, but—”_

_Felix’s heart ached to tell her. But how could he, when neither he nor Sylvain even acknowledged anything had happened? It felt like it wasn’t even his secret to tell._

_“—I just can’t. Can you... not ask about it, please? I don’t want it to be a source of gossip or anything, and there’s no beef between us. We just… I don’t know, drifted apart—”_

_Why was he like this? Why did he always end up lying without even meaning to?_

_“Yeah,” said Annette. “I won’t ask anything more about it if you don’t want me to.”_

_“And I…” Felix’s chest ached. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to choose me over him. I know I’m your roommate, but I’d understand if—”_

_“I’d choose you in a heartbeat, Felix,” Annette said. She placed her hand over his on the umbrella. “You should know that.”_

_Felix hadn’t. He bit his lip so hard he nearly cried. Or nearly cried and bit his lip to hide it. He didn’t even know what the truth was._

_“If it helps, he lives off campus now,” Annette added. “You probably won’t see him much anyway. And, well… if or when you wanna talk about it... I’ll still be here.” She gave him a smile. Being strong for him._

_She leaned her head on Felix’s shoulder on the bus ride, and somehow that lifted more weight from his shoulders than it added._

_Once they arrived, Annette was the one who needed comforting. “I’ll go first,” Felix told her, trying to smile reassuringly. He followed his assigned piercing artist away, feeling strangely zen._

_He acutely felt the needle slide through his cartilage._

_The pain that shot through him was white-hot and sustained. It was always the same sensation, but it always felt unimaginably fresh with each part of him that hadn’t felt it before. Each piercing was a unique pain, a new tunnel through his flesh where none had existed._

_His eyes watered, but it felt grounding. Cleansing. All of it did—the scent of disinfectant, the pain that throbbed in time with his heartbeat, the involuntary wetness on his eyelashes as he squeezed his eyes shut while the barbell was inserted. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel that he’d almost fainted. He wouldn’t have minded a moment of oblivion._

_And with his eyes closed, he wasn’t Felix for a moment. He was nothing but disembodied pain, nothing but nerve endings screaming for relief. He was just a fistula that hadn’t formed yet._

_And the most amazing thing about it was that the body would heal. It would accept the reality and seal up around it. One day soon, he would be able to touch it and it wouldn’t hurt at all._

_When Felix opened his eyes again, he blinked away the stars that swam in his vision. He thanked the piercing artist and went to wait for Annette in the lobby._

_She ran excitedly over a few minutes later, saying, “Felix! Look!”_

_There, in her puffy, glowing red earlobes were the studs, gleaming as she turned her head to show them off._

_“How do they look?”_

_“They look great, Annette. How was your first piercing experience?”_

_“Pretty good, I’d say! It hurt, but no more than I expected? I did get all clammy for a second when they put in the earring on my left ear, but overall I think it was a successful introduction to body modification!” she babbled happily. “And for the way they look? Totally worth it!”_

_Felix smiled genuinely. “I’m glad. Do you wanna get something to eat on the way back?”_

_“Oh, yes please, I’m so glad you asked. I’m starving!”_

_It wasn’t until the middle of October that Felix started feeling normal again._

_It was on Ashe’s birthday, coincidentally. Annette had succeeded at wrangling Dimitri, Felix, and Ashe to accompany her on a Thursday night (coincidentally, Ashe’s birthday) to a horror-themed escape room._

_“Who else is going?” Felix asked before agreeing._

_Annette gave a frustrated sigh. “Not Sylvain, if that’s what you’re asking! You really think I would do that?”_

_“No, I—”_

_“Felix, I literally asked him if Thursday worked for him before I chose it. And then chose Thursday specifically because he said he couldn’t come. Literally, the only reason we’re going on Thursday is because of a big test on Friday he said he had to study for. I literally sabotaged his ability to be there to make sure you could come.”_

_“Oh.” Guilt pricked at Felix. “Sorry. You shouldn’t have had to do that for me—”_

_“But I did. Why can’t you just believe that I would choose you?”_

_Of course, they didn’t realize the escape room was horror-themed until they got there. Felix wouldn’t have come if he’d known it would remind him of Halloween._

_And of course, they were quite possibly the worst group to ever visit a horror-themed anything._

_Annette chuckled nervously as the door closed behind them. “I mean, as long as there aren’t any supernatural elements—” She and Ashe screamed in unison as the lights went out and the counter displaying their remaining time started ticking, the red glow of its display their only source of light._

_Felix himself was jumpy, always on edge, but his real problem was that he had difficulty restraining himself from reflexively attacking everything that moved. And as they soon learned, this escape room had lots of things that moved._

_He glanced wildly around as they split up to gather clues. “What are we looking for, exactly?”_

_“I don’t know!” said Annette, flitting between all the locked wardrobes and doors, tugging every handle. “Just see if anything jumps out at you!”_

_“I think something might actually jump out at me, though. That’s the problem.”_

_“I found a—a cipher wheel?" Ashe called out._

_“Oh, I think we need that over here—” Felix managed to open the padlock on the first door._

_An actor dressed as a zombie lurched out of the closet at him._

_He nearly punched the unfortunate person in the face on instinct before realizing he could just slam the door on them instead. “Ugh, I knew that puzzle was too easy,” he growled, trying to suppress his rage at having wasted his time._

_He retreated, but apparently the door no longer stayed closed—the zombie/actor slowly followed him out before the chain connected to its collar ran out. (What a fucking weird part-time job that must have been.)_

_“Is that… blood?!” Annette hyperventilated, pointing at the closet._

_Written on the back wall was “IF I TOUCH YOU, YOU DIE.” They then rearranged the letters to open the next door._

_More of the zombie’s chain got let out every five minutes, letting the (undoubtedly minimum wage) employee plod further into the room, widening the radius that they had to avoid until they were running around the walls of the room to get from one side to the other._

_And Dimitri's only problem was that he looked fabulously haunted the whole time. Which was funny, until Felix felt bad about exposing a person who sometimes experienced paranoia and psychosis to such realistic stage makeup._

_Since Dimitri was the least skittish about the zombie, he became the designated messenger of the group after Felix had nearly punched a cuckoo clock for daring to let its spring-loaded mechanism activate as he rushed past it at the half-hour mark. Dimitri cut across the room by ducking under the zombie’s chain, carrying back and forth the blacklight and keys and clues, muttering, “It’s not real, it’s not real—”_

_With five minutes left, they had opened all the doors but one. The zombie was only a few feet away, nearing the end of its chain. Behind the most recent door they’d found a note, which Dimitri read aloud to the group._

_“The password is an item, nine letters long. The item itself is shaped like a letter of the alphabet. If you take one letter away from the sound a chicken makes, you'll have something associated with the item—”_

_“What sound does a chicken make?!” Annette exclaimed._

_“Fucking—cockadoodledoo?” Felix blurted, nearing the end of his own chain as well._

_“Cluck?” suggested Ashe._

_“Then what’s the word?” Annette cried hysterically. “Cuck?! Cluck but spelled wrong?! Cluck but spelled wrong the other way?!”_

_“Luck?” said Dimitri. “But that’s not the end of the clue—”_

_“Then fucking read it!” Felix shouted at him, now about four minutes and thirty seconds away from throttling someone—Dimitri or the zombie, whoever was closer._

_“Four of the letters are vowels. The first letter is a consonant. Only one letter is unique; the others appear twice in the word. None of the first four letters of the alphabet appear anywhere in the word. It's a compound word; one of the words within it is an animal—”_

_“Jesus Christ, this is the most convoluted, bullshit, idiotic—who the hell wrote this—” (Sylvain probably could have written this. And Sylvain probably could have solved it. He loved riddles—)_

_No, Sylvain was a fucking riddle. Felix couldn’t keep getting distracted like this._

_After four unbearable minutes of mostly Felix and Dimitri yelling at each other—“HORSESHOE!” Annette shouted at the top of her lungs._

_Ashe slid on his knees to frantically thumb at the dials of the lock._

_The countdown timer stopped with 9 seconds left. The lights came back on. Annette burst into tears._

_“Oh, fuck, are you okay?” Felix asked, nerves completely shot from being on edge for an hour straight._

_“God, yes! I’m having so much fun,” Annette sobbed. “Oh my god, it’s the estrogen. I’m so happy! I love you guys so much.”_

_Ashe pulled Annette into a hug (which may have been for his comfort as much as hers), and Dimitri put his arms around them both. Felix reluctantly joined when it became more awkward to watch than to hug them. “Group hug!” Annette said happily while still also crying. “We did it! Now let’s go get some food.”_

_“Yes please.”_

_“Sure.”_

_“Sounds good.”_

_They went to the diner._

_As they settled into a booth, Felix suddenly noticed Ingrid sitting on the other side of the room._

_With Sylvain. Sylvain’s eyes met Felix’s and pierced him anew. Felix couldn’t breathe—_

_But Sylvain glanced away like he hadn’t even noticed._

_And Felix was incensed. “Annette,” he hissed as discreetly as he could while being battered with a one-two punch of panic and betrayal. “I thought you said Sylvain had a big test tomorrow!”_

_“I—I thought he did!” Annette whispered back. “Maybe he decided not to study for it?”_

_Felix couldn’t decide which felt worse—the thought that Sylvain had lied to Annette to hang out with Ingrid, or the reminder that Sylvain was perfect without even trying—_

_And then a more painful possibility occurred to him, which was that the whole time he had been avoiding Sylvain, maybe Sylvain had been avoiding him, too._

_It hurt. And Felix dug into the pain, because at least this was the wound he had chosen._

_That night, Felix lay awake for a long time, laying on the dull ache of his healing piercing for company._

_He considered getting out of bed and going to the spot where they used to go and lay on the hill outside the dorm. Just to lay down on the grass and extend his hand up to the sky. To spread his fingers and look up at the darkness between them._

_Instead, he stayed in bed and reached one hand to the ceiling. But everything felt different. This wasn’t the room that felt like the universe._

_Felix thought about signing something just to get the feeling out, to prove to no one that he had something inside him to express._

_But if he did, he couldn’t find it. He lowered his hand and tried to sleep._

Felix woke up suddenly—groggy, unsure what time it was. It was dark. Truly dark, almost pitch black, with barely any ambient light from the city outside to slip through the blinds. But the atmosphere in the room was warm and charged and heavy with magical energy. His eyes adjusted until the room was an eerie grayscale blur.

He could faintly make out the shape of someone on the other side of the bed, facing away from him, so he reached out to touch their arm, not sure if this was real. His fingers met smooth skin and the wispy, delicate hairs on it. The light touch felt weighty with undelivered words.

“Sylvain?” he whispered. “Are you awake?”

“I could be,” Sylvain’s voice answered.

“Are you real?”

“As far as I know.” Sylvain rolled to lay on his back, turning his face to look at Felix. The eyes that blinked blindly back at Felix in the dark seemed real enough.

“You’re not in my arms,” Felix accused him. “I thought you would hold me tonight.”

“Sorry. I just... wanted to write something down quickly.”

Dream people said the darnedest things sometimes, huh?

Then Felix realized: this was a lucid dream. He had woken up within the dream, and now the laws governing the universe were his to bend. After all, why would he be awake? He wasn’t even cold yet.

So of course Sylvain would say that he was real. That was what Felix wanted to hear.

Felix shifted closer to press his cheek to Sylvain’s bicep. “Hello,” Felix said, nuzzling his forehead against Sylvain’s shoulder.

Sylvain turned fully onto his side facing him. “Hello.”

Felix kissed the front of his shoulder tenderly. “Hello again.” His heart felt like a dam about to break. He stretched his neck forward to place a kiss on Sylvain’s chin to relieve some of the pressure. His chest brushed against Sylvain’s arm, and Felix was struck by the touch like a tuning fork. “I missed you,” was the sound that rang out from inside him.

An inaudible huff from Sylvain made his hair flutter. “Missed me? When? When you were asleep?”

“Am I not still asleep?” Felix challenged.

“I sure hope not.”

“Why?” Felix kissed along Sylvain’s neck to his ear. “You can touch me in my sleep. I would let you.”

Sylvain’s only response was a shudder against him.

“Kiss me,” Felix ordered. Just to see if he’d do it.

He felt Sylvain’s hand slide under his cheek, cradling his face. Sylvain’s skin was soothingly cool to the touch—probably because Sylvain had been laying with his hands tucked up beside his face on the pillows instead of under the covers. (How clever. Felix’s subconscious had such fine attention to detail.)

Sylvain’s mouth descended to cover his, and oh, it was such a good feeling. Felix moaned into it unreservedly, opening his mouth wide to invite wet-dream-Sylvain to kiss him more deeply.

Felix might have been asleep, but his senses were awake. His body felt so comfortably warm as he moved under the crisp rustle of the sheets. He pulled himself closer to Sylvain to share this warmth with him. Sylvain’s arm draped over his waist, hand slowly stroking his lower back.

Sylvain’s tongue probed gently into his mouth, and Felix met it with his own, twisting around it, trying to ensnare it and lure it deeper into him. He felt more than heard a quick exhale from Sylvain’s nose as Sylvain’s breathing sped up. The breath felt hot and corporeal as it ghosted over Felix’s upper lip.

Felix breathed in slowly as they kissed, wanting to catch Sylvain’s air in his lungs. He held it inside him for a second, visualizing it as fog, as smoke, keeping his chest full of it. “Oh, Sylvain,” he sighed when he lost his grip on the lungful of air. “There’s so much I want to tell you.”

But space and time were insufficient mediums for all he wanted to say, so he just kissed Sylvain again before he could respond. The sensation of Sylvain’s slick lips made his mind go all muddled. He pulled back just enough to murmur, “God, you’re so _good_ ,” before returning his mouth to where it belonged.

Sylvain groaned into the kiss, and the sound made Felix light up in all the places where they touched: his lips, the hand on Sylvain’s chest, his cheek as it was cupped by Sylvain’s hand. Sylvain’s other hand rubbed back and forth over the dip of his waist, lightly kneading the softness of his side between the bones of his ribs and hip. The possessiveness of it made Felix’s insides squirm with impatient desire.

Felix felt Sylvain’s hardness rubbing against him, right on cue. He reached down to touch the outline between Sylvain’s legs and kissed him more forcefully upon feeling it. Sylvain moaned quietly in surprise, a beautifully prolonged “oh...” right into his mouth.

Felix withdrew his hand to toy with the waistband around Sylvain’s hips, tracing along it with his fingers, dipping just below it as he followed it around to Sylvain’s back. He slid his hand underneath it to feel the bare fleshy curve of Sylvain’s ass, grip the back of his thigh. He moved from kissing Sylvain’s mouth to kissing his cheek because it turned him on to hear Sylvain’s open-mouthed panting.

“You’re so good,” he said again. “Nothing like me.” He licked into Sylvain’s lips to swallow anything he might have otherwise said.

He scraped the surface of his tongue on Sylvain’s front teeth. His hips rolled forward to meet Sylvain’s like they possessed a mind of their own.

Blinded by the darkness, Felix closed his eyes and watched Sylvain through new viewpoints: his mind’s eye and the twin eyes of his palms. Imagination and touch, first person and third person all at once.

Felix watched and felt himself through the disorienting double vision, too—massaging the firm flesh of Sylvain’s ass, kissing him breathless, tongue-fucking his mouth—and he couldn’t get enough of it, and it didn’t feel real. How was it that he could be feeling so good, so suffused with warmth that he could feel it in his fingertips, while also looking down at the scene from outside himself?

Then he realized it wouldn’t be so unusual after all, for him to be completely inhabiting his body and completely apart from it at the same time. He had lived in that semi-dissociated way for a long time.

Stroking forward along Sylvain’s waistband again, he skimmed his fingers over Sylvain’s skin and followed the natural V of his pelvis into his underwear. Down to his thigh, and then inward to his cock. It felt so right for his hand.

Sylvain jolted and moaned into his mouth, so caught up in it that he could barely muster the focus to kiss Felix back. The motion of his lips turned sloppy, and then he gave up or forgot altogether and just panted, leaving his mouth open for Felix to ravage. And that was okay. Felix loved that too.

But if dreams were wish fulfillment, why was he still in his own body? He wanted to wake up in Sylvain’s body. And kiss each of his fingertips, and wrap him up in blankets, and make sure nothing ever hurt him again. He wanted to wake up as Sylvain and love him from the inside out.

Felix ground his whole body forward into Sylvain, wishing he could phase into the same physical space that Sylvain occupied. Glitch fully inside of Sylvain’s body, into Sylvain’s consciousness and nerve endings until there was nothing they didn’t share. Felix reached his mind out into infinity, looking for Sylvain. He wanted to transport himself into Sylvain’s mind so that Sylvain would dream of this, too.

Sylvain felt so hot and solid in his hand. Felix moaned, “Mmm, Sylvain,” as if he were the one being touched, because he swore he could feel Sylvain’s pleasure from the inside out if he tried. He figured they were both feeling the same, anyway: indulgent and sensuous and unrepentant. This was his dream, and he got to decide how it felt.

But it was so hot under the blankets. Perhaps this dream had everything he wanted except climate control.

Sylvain keened beautifully. “Felix, oh Felix, I—”

“I’m here.” Felix opened his eyes to refocus on his own motions, on Sylvain, needy in his hand. He wanted to touch Sylvain well.

But the forces of sleep were conspiring against him, threatening to pull him back to earth and away from this. He knew the dream would end if he closed his eyes again, so he fought to keep them open and trained on Sylvain as he slowly stroked him.

“Stay right here,” Felix said out loud to his wandering consciousness. “Right here in this bed. Don’t go anywhere else.” He rolled half on top of Sylvain, nudging one of his legs between Sylvain’s thighs.

“Felix—”

With a strangled moan, Sylvain shivered in his grasp and came, his legs clamping tight around Felix’s thigh as Felix worked him through it.

Felix caught as much of his come in his palm as he could. Carefully, deliberately, Felix pulled his hand out and licked it, every square inch. His tongue searched in the dark for each salty, milky drop. It tasted the same as his own. He wanted to eat Sylvain up. Ingest him, so that he could keep Sylvain bottled inside his stomach, nestled just under his heart for when he was alone again.

But he couldn’t. Just his come would have to do for now.

Felix recaptured Sylvain in his arms, hugging him tightly. Perhaps he could wake in the morning with Sylvain still in his arms if he just held on tight enough. He would have anchor himself, quickly, before time slipped cataclysmically away.

“Don’t let me go,” he said. He sealed one final, searing, possessive kiss on Sylvain’s throat.

And then he let himself relax and drain away. He rested his head on Sylvain’s shoulder, sank back into the comfortable warmth of the mattress, and fell asleep.

* * *

_May 15, 2020 at 3:39 AM_

_what a gift it is to see you sleeping calmly._

_the real gift is not the sight itself (though you are a gorgeous sight, my sometimes sleepyhead). no, the real gift is the knowledge that, at least tonight, you are at peace._

_i wish i could give you that, every waking moment. instead i lay here, hearing in your breath the bittersweet reminder that while you are elsewhere for now, you left the animal of your body in my bed for safekeeping._

_your sleeping sighs are contagious. just thinking about the soft clouds of your breath envelops me in their warmth. it feels so natural to be swept away by this rhythm; it is the most beautiful white noise. as constant as the distant tides of the ocean, and as fleeting and special as the chirp of cicadas in each seventeenth year’s summer. i know i will look back on this period of my life and call it by your name._

_i treasure the rise and fall of your chest and know that you have within you the same force that makes mountains and waterfalls. and i hope that when the world offers itself to you, you might go. i want you to chase life to the ends of the earth._

_but i wish, silently, to no one but myself, that you’ll return home to me to rest, and grace me again with the quiet sound of your breathing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sexual content and alcohol.
> 
> If you know me irl, I recommend reading until approximately when Felix says, “Am I not still asleep?” and then skipping to when he says, "Don't let me go."
> 
> Notes on this chapter: what? you mean you’ve never woken up and had sex in the middle of the night half-asleep???
> 
> I simply could not make this chapter work without both POVs, so I hope it is not too confusing that we get both Felix and Sylvain in this chapter! I think the last two chapters might also end up being split POV... but I promise I will try to keep the head-hopping to a minimum. Please feel free to let me know if this was like, unbearable to read. 
> 
> Okay, that's all! Enjoy!


	33. tequila and tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday, May 15th. Felix knows this could be their last night together, but that's one of many things he's not ready to say aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings in end notes! Please check them if you know me irl.

When Felix woke up in the morning, Sylvain was holding him.

Emotion washed through Felix. It was more than he could even describe, like he was both blushing and choked up, at ease and overwhelmed all at once, because _this. This. This_ was what life could be like.

A small sound escaped him as he buried his face more securely against Sylvain’s chest, not wanting this to end.

Then came Sylvain’s voice from above him. “Hey, you’re awake.”

“Stop it. No I’m not.”

“Aww, why not? I’ve been laying here, all still and stuff, just waiting for you to wake up.”

“Then just—” Felix fell deeper into the embrace, feeling unreasonably close to tears. “Just… stay still a little longer.”

Felix had no idea exactly how long they lay in bed together, since neither of them moved to check their phones. But they stayed in bed until sheer hunger drove them out to the kitchen for food, at which point they resumed their ongoing debate of whether it was breakfast or lunch…

And that was a more meaningful way to quantify what the time meant to Felix, anyway.

“Those were the last eggs,” Felix said as they finished eating.

“Oh yeah, we do need to go to the store soon! Add it to the list.” Sylvain handed him last week’s grocery receipt, with this week’s grocery list written in pen on the back.

“‘Chipotle peppers in adobo sauce’?” Felix read aloud. “What are you using those for?”

“Fish tacos!” Sylvain said cheerfully. “Which, coincidentally, is another one of my stripper names.”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Clearly you’ve never tasted my pussy.”

Felix snorted. “Yeah, apparently not.”

The trip to the store itself was easy. Felix had reorganized the list into sections, so all they had to do was walk through and pick the things they needed. In fact, it was funny; Sylvain always shopped like he was playing hide and seek with the groceries.

At one point, Sylvain chirped, “I can carry the basket!” and took it from Felix’s hand where it swung between them. He switched it to his other hand, and for a second Felix thought Sylvain had done it so they could hold hands—

But no. Felix was disappointed for a second, and then realized Sylvain was plucking the items that Felix usually had to stand on his tiptoes for off of top shelves with ease. Then Felix somehow managed to be annoyed and very happy at the same time.

He wondered what it would be like to do this every week.

While they waited in line to pay, Sylvain entertained himself by poking Felix in the shoulder. “Hey Feeeeelix,” he said, “you know the liquor store is right next door, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Can we go?”

“Why?”

“I wanted to get some tequila to celebrate!”

“Celebrate?”

“Well, since, y’know—”

Felix suddenly knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it.

“I thought you didn’t like tequila,” he interrupted.

“Oh, you know me! I’ll drink anything! Tequila, bleach, come—”

He kicked Sylvain in the leg. “Oh my god, shut up, we’re in public!”

“—ah. Right.” Sylvain sighed, faking sadness more convincingly than usual.

Of course, they went liquor store. They strode in, grocery bags still on their shoulders, and Sylvain made a beeline to pick up the largest possible (frankly gargantuan) bottle of Felix’s favorite.

“You really want that much?” Felix asked, alarmed by the sheer volume as much as the price.

“Come on, Felix!” Sylvain whined, hugging the bottle like a beloved pet. “It’s economical to buy in bulk, isn’t it? I swear I’ll drink it!”

“Uh, yeah, I know. That’s my concern.”

“Oh.” Sylvain’s face fell again. “Well, I won’t drink it too quickly.”

“Fine.” Felix reached for his wallet. “I probably don’t have enough cash, though… how much is it?”

“Oh no, it’s my treat!” Sylvain fished out a credit card and pushed it into Felix’s hands.

“O-okay? Let’s hope they don’t notice it’s a different name on the credit card than the ID…” It was too much to hope that they wouldn’t card him again when this was what he was buying.

When they got to the register, the cashier did ask for ID. Felix handed over his driver’s license.

The cashier in question honestly looked like a stereotypical milf, except that she dressed more like a teenager than someone who had children, and Felix didn’t want to fuck her.

She took exactly one second to look at Felix’s ID. “Oh, we can’t sell to people with vertical IDs,” she said, handing it back.

“What?” Felix blurted. “But I’m 21. It shows that I’m 21.”

“Yes, but it _is_ vertical.” Felix fought the urge to growl. “Does your friend have ID?” the cashier asked, turning to Sylvain.

“Oh, I, uh… left it at home,” Sylvain said, though his wallet was certainly in his pocket. “Didn’t realize I would need it.”

“Well then, I’ll be keeping this!” the cashier said, lifting the giant tequila bottle. “More for me!” She even tossed in a wink, which Felix felt was unprofessional, even for a liquor store. Particularly for a woman who was at least ten years older than them.

Felix turned to stare down Sylvain. “You didn’t bring your ID?”

“Uh, I don’t… think so? But—”

“Did you leave it in the car again? Just—just wait there a minute.” Felix shoved the credit card back into Sylvain’s hand, leaned in close to his ear, and hissed, “Flirt with her.”

Sylvain seemed to get his meaning, but thankfully he refrained from saying “ohhhhh” with his voice in addition to his face.

Felix did not go to “the car,” which was nonexistent, but instead went toward the door and then paused at the last second to step aside and let another customer enter without coming within six feet of him. That was, of course, just an excuse to step behind a shelf before turning and continuing around the perimeter of the store, back to the aisle with the tequila.

Even from the aisle, Felix could hear Sylvain turning on the charm. “You know, while I can’t give you my ID at the moment… I’d love to give you my number.”

“Oh, you flatter me!” the woman giggled.

“But how could it be flattery when it’s one hundred percent genuine?” (Felix pictured Sylvain putting on his best winning smile.)

Felix reached the correct shelf and picked up another of the same bottle. And then thought better of it, and picked up a smaller bottle of the same tequila instead. Much more manageable that way. He slipped it into one of the bags.

“Aww, you’re sweet,” the cashier was cooing. “I suppose I’ll find out when I see your ID, but… how old are you, anyway?”

“25,” Sylvain said confidently. “Does that disqualify me? Personally, I think age is just a number… I mean really, we’re all adults here…”

Wow. It really said something about Sylvain how easily this all rolled off his tongue.

Felix didn’t hear the cashier’s response, since his mind was uniquely attuned to Sylvain’s voice far more than to hers, but the next thing Sylvain said was, “All I’m asking is that you give _my_ number a try when you’re bored.” Probably also with a wink.

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt… I mean, I’m _maybe_ seeing someone right now, _kind of_ , but I’m not sure it’s… anyway! He’s nowhere near as cute as you.”

“I don’t mind being the guy on the side—”

Felix exited the store before he could start laughing and ruin the whole ploy. He crossed the street and quickly texted Sylvain.

_your “ID” isn’t in “the car”_

_oh, that’s “too bad”. i’ll “meet you there”_

“Felix!”

Felix grinned and took the bottle out of the bag in greeting as Sylvain crossed the street to join him a moment later.

“Aww, I feel a bit bad for that lady,” Sylvain said with a laugh.

“We did offer to pay for the alcohol,” Felix reasoned as he fell into stride with Sylvain. “She’s the one who said no.”

“Oh, I _did_ pay for the alcohol.” Sylvain flashed him a grin and reached into his own grocery bag to show off the larger bottle, apparently no longer confiscated.

“Wait, how did that happen?”

“Life’s easier when you’re pretty. And I think she was convinced by the fact that I actually wrote down a number and gave it to her.”

“You actually gave her your number?”

“Not mine, yours.”

“What?! You—”

“Just kidding! I gave her the Evangelion theme song phone number.”

“Oh my god, you still have that memorized?”

They walked briskly away, basically skipping with giddiness, the combined thrill of the steal and joy of laughing with Sylvain making Felix want to run.

And Sylvain was so fun to cook with. He fake-sobbed later that evening while he chopped the onion, making Felix laugh by loudly lamenting the casualties of the onion war. He whirled around the kitchen in a tizzy whenever Felix asked him for something, and kept trying to sneak in a slap to Felix’s ass when he delivered the requested item. Felix enjoyed twisting away and swatting Sylvain’s hand each time to make sure Sylvain would keep trying.

Actually, Sylvain delivered the item only half of the time. The other half of the time, Sylvain would stand directly in front of whatever drawer or cabinet Felix needed to open, simultaneously revealing the item’s location and forcing Felix to bodily remove him in order to access it. He laughed adorably every time Felix shoved him out of the way.

“You got a problem with my cooking?” Felix asked, threatening Sylvain with the tongs when he noticed that Sylvain had been turning up the heat on the stove when he wasn’t looking.

The fact that the tongs had recently been in hot oil gave Sylvain slight pause, before he apparently decided that the presence of real danger made it even more of an empty threat. “Yes. I want my fish nice and crispy.” Sylvain waggled his eyebrows, but if it was some kind of innuendo, Felix didn’t get it. Which somehow made it even funnier.

Felix managed to wrestle his uncooperative face into a frown and said, “Fine, then, _you_ can do it,” pushing the tongs into Sylvain’s hands. “Pick a cod and pray,” he warned in Sylvain’s ear as he brushed by him.

Sylvain laughed, leaned in teasingly close, and finally delivered that smack to Felix’s ass. Felix knew they were being disgustingly silly, but he was so happy that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Sylvain hip-checked him while they were putting food on their plates, and Felix laughed and leaned his head closer, in clear invitation for Sylvain to kiss him. He closed his eyes, and felt Sylvain’s breath—

But the expected kiss never arrived. He opened his eyes to find Sylvain turning away from him. And the whole good mood of the day was ruined.

Fish tacos were one of Felix’s favorite foods, but his mouth was dry as sand as they sat down to eat.

“Oh, this sucks,” Felix heard Sylvain say. Distantly, as if through a wall of glass.

“Sucks?” Felix asked, looking up from his plate as the word seemed to punch him in the gut.

“No, _fucks_ ,” said Sylvain. “I said ‘this fucks.’ As in, rocks my world.”

“Oh.”

“But do _you_ like it?” Sylvain’s eyes flicked down to their food.

“Yeah? Of course I do.” _We made it together,_ he wanted to say.

“Okay. Good.” Sylvain smiled and kept eating.

He wanted to tell Sylvain. He wanted to tell him so badly. He cast about wildly for anything that he could do to force himself to cough up the words—

“They go better with tequila.”

Sylvain grinned and said, “I know.”

Ah, how could Felix have forgotten alcohol? He should have gotten drunk last night to loosen him up before trying to fuck the “I love you” out of him! It was a good thing the world was generous with second chances.

Within seconds, Sylvain had fished out a shot glass and the smaller bottle and poured a shot. He then instantly drank it.

“I meant for me!” Felix snatched the glass from Sylvain’s hands and poured another shot, which Sylvain then stole, spilling half of it on the table before downing the remainder. “I thought you would—at least do a toast or something—”

“Fine! Cheers to you trying to buy tequila and being so short that you had to shoplift it anyway.”

 _Cheers to our last night together._ “Cheers to the DMV not renewing my license, and to you being a dick in every possible way.” Felix poured another shot for himself.

“Is that a toast, or a roast?”

Felix drank the shot instead of answering.

Sylvain gasped.

“What?”

“Indirect kiss,” Sylvain said, pointing at the glass before breaking into a grin.

Felix bristled with frustration. “Just kiss me directly, idiot.” He pulled Sylvain into a kiss by the front of the shirt, and things were temporarily right with the world again.

From there, they got progressively tipsier and tipsier, stealing the glass back and forth and and aggressively toasting each other’s worst traits until somehow Sylvain laughed so hard that he was fake-crying again.

“Felix,” Sylvain sobbed dramatically, pointing at the vase on the counter, “Lysithea’s flowers. They’re dying. Oh, the horror—”

“Go get a book,” Felix commanded.

“A book?”

“One of those things you claim to read? Or better yet, a notebook.”

Sylvain looked bewildered, but he meandered back to his room and returned with a blank notebook.

“Damn,” said Felix. “I was hoping I could trick you into handing over your diary.”

“Nice try, but the pages wouldn’t be blank.”

“You can write?”

Felix taped each individual flower into its own page of the notebook, explaining that he should stack more books on top of it, before finally handing it back to Sylvain. “There. Now you can keep them forever, or whatever.”

Sylvain beamed and climbed into his lap.

They got a little bit drunker, off of both alcohol and kisses, before Felix decided it was time to move back to Sylvain’s room.

He settled cross-legged on the bed and got out his phone. “Whatcha do-oooing?” Sylvain said, prancing into the room after him.

“Drunk texting Annette.”

“Why-yyy?”

“Because I miss her and don’t tell her enough.”

“Aww Felix, you’re so sweet,” Sylvain said, crawling onto the bed himself. “Why do you have to be drunk to text her?”

“Because I’m a bad friend,” Felix said bluntly.

“What? No! You’re such a nice guy!”

“Um, okay? Thanks,” Felix said. It was hard to text and talk at the same time. He just barely stopped himself from sending “ _hey annette i just wanted to let u kno wim a bad rriend ok thanks_ ”.

As he backspaced and tried again, Sylvain scooted even closer and threw himself over Felix’s legs, flopping backwards and draping himself so his head was in Felix’s lap. “Felix,” he whined, “pay attention to me...” He wiggled and lifted his arms in a babyish request to be picked up.

“Just gimme a minute, will you?”

“Come on, we haven’t fucked since last night!” Sylvain complained as if that were an unreasonably long time.

“Stop that,” Felix said, still trying to compose his text. Luckily for him, his body did not have an immediate reaction to undercut his words for Sylvain. In their current positions, his dick would’ve poked Sylvain in the back of the head.

Sylvain sat up slightly, groaning dramatically as if it were a herculean task, and flung his arms around Felix’s shoulders. “Hey, cut it out,” Felix scolded, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to be annoyed when Sylvain looked so cute like that.

Sylvain fell back on command, but he succeeded in taking Felix’s hair out of his bun before he did. He lay back down, taking Felix’s ponytail holder with him, grasping it triumphantly between his fingers. Felix made to swipe it back from him, but Sylvain slingshotted it away with his fingers. It landed somewhere on the floor.

“Oops.” Sylvain relaxed back into laying in his lap with a guileless, silly grin.

“You’re not fooling anyone, you know,” Felix remarked, secretly enjoying Sylvain’s antics as always.

“Wasn’t trying to.”

“Are you trying to make me crawl on the floor looking for it?”

“Nah, not really. Though I wouldn’t mind,” Sylvain chattered away happily, apparently too drunk to think twice before speaking. “You just look so sexy with your hair down, you know? I think I accidentally conditioned myself into having a... what’s it called? A …Pavlovian response to it. ‘Cause now when you let your hair down, I get so hot… like, all the time… it’s kinda crazy what you do to me.”

Oh. Felix had feelings about that. He could feel himself blushing again.

Sylvain didn’t notice. He just went right on blabbing, “You’re just so cute, and hot, and—oh! I still remember you with your shorter hair and those cat ears sometimes. Remember that halloweekend? When we met? Damn, you were so cute then, too!”

“Yeah. I tried to deck you.” Felix tried in vain to concentrate on what he was typing, but Sylvain continued his absentminded reminiscing.

“Ooh, and remember when we were walking home from the fro-yo place that one time and it started raining? You got soaked through all your clothes, and I was like, whoa! I wanna see that more often!” Sylvain laughed to himself, and then sighed and stretched his arms over his head. “Didn’t tell you that, though. More fun to think it to myself.”

Felix finally pressed send on whatever nonsense he had managed to type to Annette and tossed his phone away. “You’re such a nuisance, you—”

Whatever Felix was about to say fizzled out in his brain, because Sylvain was suddenly sitting up and peeling off his own shirt.

Once he was successfully de-shirted, Sylvain lay back down with his head in Felix’s lap and lifted his hips to wiggle out of his pants and underwear too. Felix automatically reached down and ran his hands over Sylvain’s collarbone and shoulders.

“Oh, Felix,” Sylvain sighed thoughtlessly up at him, “I want you so bad. Ah, your hands are so nice. I love how you touch me. God, you’re so sexy, I lose my mind over you. I want you, like, all the time… do you want me the same way? Oh Felix” —he let his eyes drift shut— “I’d let you do whatever you want to me.”

“Damn, you’re so needy,” Felix said, reveling in the fact. “What’s gotten into you?”

“A whole lotta Potion of Stupid,” Sylvain said with a sly look in his eyes, “but now I’m ready for some Oil of Slipperiness and your fingers.”

“You nerd,” Felix chuckled. He really loved silly Sylvain. Thoughtful, thoughtless, smart, stupid—it didn’t matter, he loved every version of Sylvain. Felix leaned down over him, turning his head to give Sylvain an upside-down kiss.

Sylvain giggled as Felix’s nose touched his chin. Sylvain made an adorable smooching sound, then pulled Felix’s head down with both hands to make sure his next smooch was inescapable.

Felix lightly licked Sylvain’s lips to get him to open his mouth, loving the way Sylvain moaned just from being kissed.

He reluctantly had to stop touching Sylvain’s neck and chest because his hair, free from the bun, kept falling around his face. He adjusted it to all fall over one shoulder, wanting to be able to kiss Sylvain better.

But his hair kept spilling forward anyway, somehow getting between their mouths and needing to be spat out repeatedly. “Fuck, sorry, lemme find a ponytail holder,” Felix said, eyes darting to his bedside table, to Sylvain’s, to the floor he had sworn he wouldn’t crawl on—

Sylvain laughed and sat up, holding up his wrist to show the extra ponytail holder around it. “Come here, cutie,” he said with a grin. And then he was crawling around to kneel behind Felix, ridiculously drunk, gloriously naked and _braiding his hair_. Felix’s heart twisted with affection.

As soon as Sylvain finished the braid, he was kissing the back of Felix’s head, pulling his shirt off and feeling up his stomach, trying to sneak a hand down the front of his pants.

“Get back here,” Felix said, twisting to pull Sylvain back down across his lap. This time, Sylvain wriggled to lay belly-up in Felix’s lap, with his neck supported by one of Felix’s knees and his hips propped up by the other.

Felix bent down to kiss him and turned his head so they were kissing right-side up this time, with their noses bumping together.

“Felix,” Sylvain panted as they pulled apart, bright-eyed and eager, “I want you, Felix, want you now.” He reached up and touched Felix’s lips.

“I’m right here.”

“C’mon, Felix…” Sylvain whined. “You know what I want.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do!”

“Not until you say it.”

Sylvain pouted. “Fucking bite me.”

Felix leaned down and placed his teeth around Sylvain’s cheekbone, clamping down harder and harder until Sylvain finally gasped and said, “Ah! Felix, don’t tease!”

“How is that teasing? I’m giving you exactly what you asked for.”

“I’m asking for _you_!” Sylvain said plaintively.

“How? Do you want me here?” Felix touched a finger to Sylvain’s lips. “Or here?” His hand. “Or here?” His chest.

“Or” —his hand went down and down and down, over Sylvain’s stomach, between his legs, past his cock, past his balls— “do you want me here?” He rubbed with the pads of three fingers.

“Yes,” Sylvain moaned. “All of it.”

“Can’t do all of it at once.”

“Well then” —Sylvain turned over onto his stomach— “start here.” He guided Felix’s hand over the curve of his ass to press his fingers against his hole again.

Felix’s stomach coiled with arousal. He’d had no idea how much he liked the idea of Sylvain laying across his lap to get fingered until Sylvain was there, arching his back like he was waiting to be spanked, and panting like an animal for it. Felix cursed under his breath as he had to remove his hand and fumble for lube in the nightstand drawer.

He paused with two fingers at Sylvain’s rim. “You sure? You’re pretty drunk, you know—”

“Felix, I’m fucking _begging_ you for it! What else do you —”

He slid in. Sylvain’s ass canted up into his hand, pushing back to get his fingers deeper. With a breathy sigh, Sylvain started murmuring, “Ah, that’s good, Fe, thank you,” in a voice so soft and peaceful it made Felix’s head spin.

“You like that?” he asked, rubbing into Sylvain slow and steady.

“Yes, I—ah, ah, fuck—want your cock in me, want you right here, all the time—” Felix thrust his fingers with a corkscrewing motion, and Sylvain’s words turned into gibberish.

“On your back.” Felix pulled his fingers out. He wanted to see the look on Sylvain’s face.

Sylvain rolled over like he’d just been waiting for it, and his face was so open and sweet. Felix’s fingers slid back in, down to the knuckle like they belonged there.

Felix then noticed with a jolt that Sylvain’s cock was stiff and leaking on his stomach. “Oh. Look how hard you are,” he said, lost in wonder at it. “Making a mess of yourself. I haven’t even touched you there yet.”

For some reason, this, of all things, was the thing to embarrass Sylvain. Sylvain squirmed and turned his face into the pillow.

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” Felix laughed, rubbing his fingers around in small circles inside Sylvain. “You know I was gonna touch you there, too.”

Sylvain moaned. “Oh _god_ yes. Please.”

Felix fingered Sylvain until Sylvain was breathing heavily, twitching, gasping _fuck me, Felix, fuck me, fuck me_ —until Felix withdrew his hand and pulled Sylvain into a sitting position to kiss him again.

Then he moved out from between Sylvain’s legs. “On your knees,” Felix said. He wanted to have Sylvain in the position Sylvain always put him in. Find out what was so good about not seeing his face.

Sylvain rolled the rest of the way up onto his knees, and then looked back at him like a trained dog expecting a treat for performing the trick. And fuck if that wasn’t the most adorable-looking power trip ever Felix had ever seen.

Felix pulled off his pants and underwear, tossing them onto the floor. He moved in close behind him until Sylvain was kneeling in his lap, a perfect reversal of the first time he’d let Sylvain touch him. He pressed his chest to Sylvain’s back, hugging him close. “I want to have you like this,” he said quietly.

Sylvain whined and arched his back. “Come on, then! Please, Felix, please—” Felix’s cock pressed against Sylvain’s ass, and he couldn’t resist grinding slowly against him as he mouthed at the back of Sylvain’s neck. “Ah, ah—”

Felix felt a shiver run down Sylvain’s back. Slight, but noticeable. He kept nosing at the spot, lightly exhaling against it, feeling Sylvain shake.

Until Sylvain made an adorable “ _eep!_ ” sound and was suddenly laughing, gasping for breath and saying, “Sorry! Sorry—ahahaha—I’m not laughing at you, I just—hahaha—”

“Are you… ticklish?” A slow grin spread across Felix’s face as he pulled back to look at Sylvain. Because if so, that was fucking adorable.

“Ugh, sorry, I’m killing the mood, aren’t I?” Sylvain asked miserably.

It didn’t ruin anything—it just made it silly and happy. Felix turned Sylvain’s chin to face him, wanting to make sure Sylvain saw that he was smiling while he said, “No. I like your laugh.”

Sylvain’s expression turned needy. He turned his head even further, as much as he could, for Felix to kiss him over his shoulder. Felix helped him turn his chin an inch further with a hand on his jaw, and there was something beautiful about how Sylvain’s neck stretched long under his hand. He felt Sylvain sigh as their mouths met.

“So I should avoid that spot?” Felix checked a moment later.

“Oh! Um…” Sylvain seemed almost unsure, which just made Felix’s heart melt more. “No, I don’t mind, exactly. It’s actually kinda… good? Like, if you use more pressure or something? It’s just the light touch that makes me—”

Felix licked the back of his neck, and Sylvain dissolved into a helpless moan.

He kissed Sylvain’s neck, messy and drunkenly clumsy, but Sylvain didn’t seem to mind—he was panting and stirring his hips around on Felix’s lap—and Felix absolutely understood the appeal of this position. He put his hand over Sylvain’s eyes and roughly pulled his head back so it tipped back onto his shoulder.

And then Sylvain put his hands on the bed in front of him, lifting his hips slightly off his heels and pressing them back. Felix noticed and couldn’t miss an opportunity to degrade him. “You can get on your hands and knees, if you wanna be fucked like a dog so bad.”

Mind-blowingly, Sylvain _obeyed_. He got on his hands and then lowered himself onto his fucking elbows, sticking his ass in air and hanging his head.

“Like this?” Sylvain asked, somehow managing to sound sweet and earnest while he was literally face down, ass up, panting ridiculously and presenting his hole. Felix almost laughed at him, but he thought that might be a bit mean, even for him.

“You are un-fucking-believable,” Felix huffed, not knowing which way he meant it. He smoothed a hand from Sylvain’s sacrum up along the length of his spine, following the scooping curve of his back to the the area between his shoulder blades. Felix savored the little shivers he could feel under his palm, his eyes following his hand up to Sylvain’s head.

And Sylvain just ate it up. “So, like this?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes. Just like this. Perfect.” Felix couldn’t see Sylvain’s smile, but he knew it was there.

Except he _could_ see it.

Felix met his own eyes in the mirror in the corner of the room before his gaze slid right down to Sylvain’s face, his expression soft and slack with pleasure. “You make the cutest faces, Sylvain.”

And then Felix was running his hands over Sylvain’s shoulders, up the back of his neck into his hair, and Sylvain was watching himself be touched, making little sounds in his throat. “Nnn—” Felix tugged roughly at Sylvain’s hair to let the sound spill out. “—ah, ah, Felix—” Sylvain had his head tipped back toward the ceiling as Felix pushed in.

Sylvain’s hole spread around him like a dream, the wet ring of it kissing the base of his cock as he slid in to the hilt. Sylvain moaned loudly, and Felix reached his hand to Sylvain’s face, to cover his mouth and hook his fingers into the wet cavern.

He watched in the mirror as his middle and ring fingers sunk in, thrusting deeper as he kept his hand clamped over Sylvain’s lips. He always loved feeling Sylvain’s tongue lash against his fingers. Sylvain sucked like they were a cock in his mouth, and in that moment Felix could have sworn he felt actual pleasure from his fingers.

Then, when he eventually pulled his fingers out, he moved his hand to the place where their bodies connected, lightly tracing the stretched ring with his finger as he teased Sylvain with slow, shallow thrusts.

His dick twitched at the sight of Sylvain’s cheeks spread around his cock, Sylvain’s ass flush with his hipbones. Felix knew he must be leaking precome from the slit; he could feel the difference in texture between the lube and his own precome. The fluids felt different on the head of his cock. The mere idea of it being injected straight into Sylvain’s body had him already thrusting harder, unable to contain a choked moan at the thought, at the feeling itself.

He held Sylvain’s hips with one hand so Sylvain couldn’t set the pace, couldn’t take the pleasure for himself, and kept rubbing the place where his dick entered Sylvain’s body, and all the while, Sylvain kept breathing his quiet little pleas, the _“like that”_ s and the “ _fuck me_ ”s and the _“don’t stop”_ s.

Felix exploited every trick he knew, wanting to overwhelm Sylvain with pleasure, pamper him with all his favorite things. “Greedy little slut,” he grunted. “It’s too bad everyone else has already used you in every other way… but only I get to see you like this.”

Sylvain only panted, sweat prickling over his skin.

“You can’t even hide how much you want it.” Felix slid his hand further down, to Sylvain’s perineum, to his balls, to his cock. He tugged at it, rubbing the tip, aiming it down at the bed between Sylvain’s legs. It felt, obscenely, like milking a cow.

Sylvain whined and pushed back onto Felix’s cock. “Felix, I want…”

“What?”

“Only nice things. Only say nice things to me this time.”

Felix’s heart seized in his chest.

With all his breath knocked out of him, Felix lay his torso over Sylvain’s and let his hands slide down Sylvain’s arms. When he reached the backs of Sylvain’s hands, he interlaced their fingers, trying not to put too much weight into his hands and crush Sylvain’s underneath him. He kissed the side of his neck and sheathed himself into Sylvain with slow, steady thrusts.

“I like kissing you,” he confessed. “Kissing your body. And being inside you, and getting to see you like this, getting to be with you like this. I like everything you have to say, all the sounds you make—”

“Want you to fuck me right here for the rest of my life,” Sylvain breathed in response.

Felix couldn’t resist nuzzling Sylvain’s neck on the spot that made Sylvain’s back arch and twitch with sensitivity. He liked hearing the few sounds that Sylvain couldn’t control, even as he tried to hide them. Or maybe he just liked having his mouth on Sylvain’s skin, being attached to him in two places rather than one, forming a complete circuit of their bodies—no, actually. Four places. It was four if he counted their hands.

“You’re so good for me,” he praised. “So sweet and soft inside. Doing so well, kitten.”

Sylvain reminded him more of a puppy, but Felix called him kitten anyway. Because if Sylvain was any kind of animal, he was Felix’s favorite kind of animal. Every time Felix said kitten, he wanted Sylvain to remember that and read between the lines.

“I like this,” Sylvain said, giving voice to what Felix was thinking.

“Me too. What else do you like?”

“I like… when you call me names,” Sylvain mumbled.

“I know,” Felix said, kissing his spine. “What’s your favorite?”

“When you just... say my name. Or call me baby.”

“Sylvain, baby, you’re—” Sylvain’s hips stuttered against Felix’s, and a low hot laugh came from Felix’s throat. “God, you make it too easy.”

Sylvain was trembling underneath him. “Do I feel good, Felix?” he panted, asking for more praise, or permission, or both.

“Yes, baby. I think you feel amazing. Don’t you?”

Sylvain whimpered.

Felix suddenly became aware from the hot tingling in his gut that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. “Shit, I’m so close—”

Sylvain moaned wantonly. “Come on my back.”

“Don’t want me to come inside?”

Sylvain shook his head and panted heavily. “Want you to—mmm, want you to come all over me. Love when you get me all dirty.”

“Fucking hell—” Felix pulled out and slid between Sylvain’s cheeks, feeling Sylvain’s hole gape hungrily against the underside of his cock. He came so hard that it shot all the way to Sylvain’s hair, and then he licked up and down Sylvain’s back and pushed his fingers back in, rubbing Sylvain’s prostate and biting his neck until he came.

When it was done, Felix surveyed his work. “Fuck, that was really hot.” He liked seeing how wrecked Sylvain got after sex, and thinking about the bite marks only enflamed that possessiveness tenfold.

Apparently Sylvain was thinking about them too. “I can’t believe you bit my face,” Sylvain said, flopping down onto his side and touching his cheekbone.

“You did say ‘bite me’.”

“Hey Felix, have you ever read Sharp Objects?”

Felix sighed in fond exasperation. “You always ask me about books, and I’ve never read any of them.”

“And you say _I_ can’t read! You—” Sylvain struggled with his word recall. “You…hypocrite!”

“Oh, hush.”

When Sylvain moved his hand away from his cheekbone, Felix replaced it with one of his own, stroking over the slightest little ghost of a bruise left by one of his canines, a single pinprick of red under the skin. His hand then wandered to Sylvain’s forehead, softly pushing back his hair.

Sylvain leaned into the touch, again, and again, and again. And Sylvain fucking _purred._

“Are you... head-butting my hand?” Felix asked. Maybe Sylvain did have some feline behaviors after all.

Just as Sylvain opened his mouth to respond, his stomach growled. Loudly.

“I’ll be right back,” Felix said with a laugh, taking it upon himself as the less inebriated one to solve this problem. He rolled out of bed and pulled on some pajama pants from their basket of clean laundry, not sure if they were his or Sylvain’s.

Well, actually, they were all Sylvain’s either way. He couldn’t help but feel a little sentimental over that.

“Mmm, no, Felix, don’t go...” Sylvain moaned into the bedspread. Felix laughed and went to the kitchen to figure out what he could make while stumbling drunk.

He ended up microwaving a sweet potato, thanking his lucky stars when he remembered to stab it with a fork so it wouldn’t explode in the microwave.

When he returned with the microwave-baked sweet potato on a plate—already sliced, with two forks—Sylvain sat up in bed and threw his arms around him, forcing Felix to put the plate down on the nightstand. “Fe, I thought you were gone!” He clung to Felix desperately tight.

“I told you I would be right back,” Felix said, bewildered.

“But I thought” —Sylvain squeezed him tighter— “I thought maybe you’d just said that, and then—jumped off the balcony or something—”

“You thought that and didn’t come try to stop me?”

Sylvain pulled back to frown at him disapprovingly. “Don’t mock my distress!”

“I’m not. I really was just in the kitchen,” Felix promised. He gently took Sylvain’s hand and turned it palm-up before picking up the plate and passing it to Sylvain. “See?”

Sylvain’s face shifted instantly—back to desperate sadness. “You made this? For me?”

“Uh, yeah. Well, to share…”

Sylvain looked truly heartbroken. “This—this is too much. I… I can’t—”

“It’s just a potato,” Felix said, perplexed. “And like I said, we can split it. You don’t have to eat it all by yourself.”

“Yeah, I—” Sylvain picked up a fork and speared a little piece. “Thanks,” he said before eating it. “Thank you,” he said again after eating it. “Thank you so much, I—I can’t even—”

For reasons Felix couldn’t fathom, Sylvain burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” Felix asked, alarmed.

“Felix, I—” Tears ran down Sylvain’s face. “I—”

Whatever Sylvain wanted to say, he wasn’t able to get it out. Felix quickly eased the plate out of Sylvain’s hands and set it aside before hugging Sylvain’s head to his chest, stroking his hair. “Did I say something?”

“No,” said Sylvain, “not at all. You didn’t—you haven’t—” He cried harder.

Felix didn’t know what to say, but he did know to keep holding Sylvain. He let Sylvain cry, and thought he must have never seen Sylvain this drunk before.

He held Sylvain and listened intently, as if he could learn something from it.

Sylvain gradually calmed. Then they were just sitting together, Sylvain’s forehead resting on Felix’s collarbone. “Thanks,” Sylvain said again. “For playing along. With… y’know.”

“With what?”

“With me. For so long.”

“Two weeks isn’t really that long.”

“I… I guess not.” Sylvain said nothing for a moment. Then he quietly asked, “Can I… braid your hair?”

“You already braided it tonight.”

“Oh, right.” Another second passed. “You won’t leave before I wake up, will you?” he asked, even quieter.

“Sylvain.” Felix felt a complicated little smile come to his face. “I probably won’t even wake up before you.”

“Oh, right. Okay. Thank you.”

Felix almost said _I never want to leave you at all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for alcohol and sexual content.
> 
> If you know me irl (and are somehow still reading), I recommend reading until "Sylvain was suddenly sitting up and peeling off his own shirt" and then resuming somewhere around "Hey Felix, have you ever read Sharp Objects"
> 
> Notes on this chapter: Fire emblem characters? making a fire emblem reference? It's more likely than you think.
> 
> Also, I apologize for the enormous delay on this chapter! I just couldn't get it to a point I was happy with, and frankly I'm still not happy with it, but I'm not going to keep everyone waiting forever because I'm a perfectionist. But also, I did write 2 fe3h oneshots while I was procrastinating! And I have now published more than 200k words on ao3!
> 
> So thank you for your patience, and I promise I will reach the end of this story! It just might take a little time <3


	34. future vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday, May 16th. Sylvain always thinks he knows the ending, but he doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No particular content warnings for this chapter!

Sylvain couldn’t sleep. He should have predicted it, really. Alcohol always did this to him. But he hadn’t remembered, hadn’t even thought to grab a book or his phone before letting Felix fall asleep hugging him. So he lay awake for hours as his head cleared, his body slowly filtering the alcohol away.

And as he lay there, with Felix tucked into him, chin on his shoulder, he played the same scene out in his head in fifteen different iterations to make sure he wouldn’t be blindsided again.

The scenario he judged most likely went like this:

“Felix. These past two weeks with you have been...”

“Agonizing?” Felix would interrupt, not knowing how close to the truth he was.

“Fun,” Sylvain would say, with his heart already aching. “It’s been fun.” Both could be true.

“Don’t go getting all sentimental on me now,” Felix would say, either entertained or genuinely annoyed. Maybe with a roll of his eyes, or an exasperated sigh. Maybe he would tack on, “It’s not like I’m dying.”

And Sylvain would stand there and try to conceal that he _was_ dying inside. He would smile. He would see Felix out the door, and then close the door and lean on it—no, collapse against it, to hear the clacking wheels of Felix’s suitcase and the ding of the elevator. But he wouldn’t watch. He wouldn’t be able to.

So yeah. That was one terrible possibility.

Then there was the distinct possibility that he _wouldn’t_ be able to hold it together and would end up catching Felix’s wrist and crying like a child, begging, “Please, please don’t leave me.” But that was a bad scenario too, because then Felix’s lip would curl in disgust the way it had once before, the way that was burned into Sylvain’s mind forever, and Felix would leave anyway.

There was an iteration where Sylvain was evil and found some way to trick Felix into staying, by hiding one of his belongings or lying to him.

There was an iteration where he found some way to _actually_ get them both sick, just in case they hadn’t been sick already.

An iteration where he followed Felix home like a stalker.

An iteration where he created a way to lock the door forever.

And so on and so forth. Sylvain’s mind was running around a maze of last ditch efforts with seemingly no way out.

And then there was the least likely outcome, the one Sylvain wanted the most. The one where he would say the three words on his part: the most cliche, overstated, under-appreciated words any language had to offer.

Sylvain was even worse with numbers than he was with words, but even he knew the chance of that happy ending was close to zero. Even if he _did_ somehow find the courage get the words out, he was sure the odds of Felix saying them back were astronomically low.

Of course, the dramatic irony of it was crystal clear in the rearview mirror. The past showed exactly what was going to happen from what had happened last time, as surely as a well-written story provided just enough clues to allow a careful reader to guess the ending. And yet Sylvain was still going there anyway, ignoring all the foreshadowing, walking right into the trap, driving headfirst into what he knew was bound to be a wreck.

It would’ve been easy to look at this oncoming tragedy from the perspective of what could have prevented it, what little twists of fate would have rerouted the whole course that led here: If only he hadn’t tripped into Felix at the Halloween party. If only he hadn’t crashed their mouths together that night. If only he hadn’t slammed his shoulder into Felix’s in front of the mailboxes.

But that gave coincidence too much power in all of this. What if those were all things that he would never consider mistakes? Did it make this more or less tragic that if he went back in time, he would knowingly do almost all of it again?

So Sylvain resolved himself. This time, he would let Felix go. If Felix was meant to stay, he would have to come back.

“You drooled on the pillow.”

“...Huh?”

It was morning, or maybe midday. Sylvain’s eyes opened to find Felix’s eyes blinking back at him, Felix’s face suspended over him. His heart swooped in his chest at the sight.

“I said, you drooled on the pillow,” Felix repeated, one eyebrow quirking up in amusement.

“Oh, really? I—”

Sylvain moved a hand to pat at the pillow by his mouth, but Felix grabbed that hand and held it in his own. Sylvain felt like he might die of joy. He was only barely awake, and already he felt full to bursting. Jesus Christ, he was so happy he couldn’t even handle it.

And then he remembered what day it was, and the world crashed down around him.

“So, what are the plans for today?” Felix asked, casually interlacing their fingers. For all the world, he looked and sounded as content and unbothered as someone who knew they would get to spend eternity with their soulmate. “Anything on the calendar?”

“I—uh—”

_Leaving._

“Cleaning!” Sylvain blurted. “Two weeks. I change my sheets every two weeks. Should probably change them more often, honestly, but—” He very promptly felt like a whole entire idiot for coming up with a way to symbolically wash Felix out of his life even more.

But Felix was laughing. “I was just asking about breakfast, but you really want me out of your hair, huh?” Felix asked, smiling in way that seemed a bit bemused.

“It’s more that I just want your hair out of my pillowcase,” Sylvain retorted. (It wasn’t really true, of course. Sylvain wanted to keep as much of Felix as he could. Maybe he could wash his sheets and keep the lint from the dryer in a little box like a freak.)

”Well, since your pillowcase now does have drool on it...”

”Oh my god, leave me alone!” (But don’t.)

Sylvain managed to get through breakfast/lunch and the process of stripping the bed without acting on any of his insane impulses. He even felt like Felix was being especially sweet today, offering to help with everything and ruffling Sylvain’s hair whenever he got a chance.

And they stayed in their pajamas for some reason, too. Sylvain consciously decided not to point it out. If Felix was still wearing his pajamas, it was easier to imagine he wasn’t leaving yet.

“I can take care of this part by myself, you know,” Sylvain chuckled while they started stuffing the sheets into the washing machine. “Just go deal with the bed! The sooner we get the new sheets on the bed, the more time we’ll have to mess them up.”

“That’s okay,” said Felix. “I won’t be around to mess them up for much longer anyway.”

Before that could even sink in, Felix’s phone rang, making him jump in surprise.

“Who the fuck would be—oh. My old man is calling.” Felix picked up the phone.

“Penis, penis, penis, penis,” Sylvain started chanting. Quietly at first, but escalating in volume each time he said it. “Penis, penis, penis—”

Felix shoved a hand over Sylvain’s mouth, which of course he licked, causing Felix to then shove two fingers into his mouth as “punishment.” Unfortunately for Felix, Sylvain was immune to punishment.

“Hi Dad. Why are you—” Felix tried to cover his phone by cupping it into his neck as Sylvain let out a loud and purposeful moan around his fingers. Felix then withdrew his fingers and used them to pinch Sylvain’s ear rather painfully, causing Sylvain to gasp. Equally loudly. Which was probably not the result Felix had been hoping for.

“Um, why are you calling?” Felix repeated into the phone, mouth twitching in annoyance as he glared at Sylvain. While his father presumably answered, Felix covered the phone’s microphone and held it away from his face to hiss, “Shut up, you lunatic, before I shove your head in the dryer,” at Sylvain.

“Felix, pass the blunt!” Sylvain cried in response. Felix rolled his eyes in disgust and retreated to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

“Aww, babe, come back to bed!” Sylvain called to the door. If there was any response from Felix, Sylvain couldn’t hear it.

He also could no longer hear Felix’s conversation on the phone, which, in retrospect, he maybe would have preferred to overhear. He wasn’t usually one to be a dropper of eaves, but...

He could just barely hear Felix say, “No, I don’t know when I’m leaving… Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

Okay, well, now it was panic time: what were the least evil ways to get Felix to stay?

Sylvain scrabbled at the cobwebbed corners of his mind, then darted to his dresser and grabbed one of Felix’s shirts—one of Felix’s favorites, which was clean since Felix had already worn it and washed it once this week—and threw it into the washing machine, feeling monstrous about it.

He hastily fumbled with the cap of the laundry detergent, because apparently his hands had chosen this critical moment to start shaking uncontrollably. He slammed the start button while Felix emerged from the bathroom.

And then Sylvain bumbled back into the bedroom, where Felix was starting to put pillowcases on pillows, and became painfully aware that he had cried yesterday and it hadn’t changed anything, so there was no point in doing it again. And he was humiliatingly close to doing it anyway.

He somehow found himself saying, “By the way, I just put some of your clothes in the laundry. And it won’t be done for at least an hour, maybe more. And you probably shouldn’t walk home when the sun is going to set, so—”

He knew he sounded crazy. He immediately saw a million holes in this plan, not least of which was that he and Felix had walked home from parties at 3am together before, and that Felix could just leave his clothes, or say “mail them to me” and go home anyway.

“And you didn’t get sick until a few days after you arrived!” Sylvain said desperately, knowing he was making a mess of his excuses by combining them. “So like, you’re better now, but I don’t know how it works? Like, does the two weeks start when you first come into contact, or when you get actually sick? So maybe, just to be sure—”

“Sure,” Felix echoed.

Sylvain shut his mouth. He thought Felix was just repeating the word back at him until nothing else was forthcoming. “Sure?”

“Yeah, sure. I can stay the night. It’s not like I have plans or anything.”

Sylvain hoped his relief was palpable only to him. But he was relieved, because he’d suddenly realized that he wasn’t washing Felix from his life. He now had been offered a second chance. He could change his sheets today, and sleep on them with Felix tonight. That, at least, was something he could keep for another two weeks.

Determined to make the most of this, Sylvain put on some music while they worked, queuing up only upbeat songs, wrestling the fitted sheet onto the bed to the tune of Tieduprightnow. And as soon as the fitted sheet was on, he climbed up on the bed and tugged at Felix’s hand to bring him along, too.

“Wait, Sylvain! What if we—I don’t know, break your bed—”

“Is that what your dad said would happen if you jumped on the bed? Sorry, Fe, but if we were gonna break the bed, we would have already done it by now.”

Felix let himself be dragged up onto the bed, and though Sylvain had originally intended on dancing, it turned out jumping on the bed together was even better.

“Hey, I once ate a whole bowl of penne by swallowing each noodle whole to this song!” Sylvain said cheerfully as Heaven is a Place on Earth came on.

The way their jumping rhythms lined up sent Felix flying especially high in the air as he jumped and said, “Sylvain, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“You know! Like with bubble tea!”

“I’m sorry, do you _swallow_ the fucking _bubbles_?”

“I dunno, do they come through the straw alongside a beverage?”

“You’re saying this just to make me laugh like a fool,” Felix accused him, laughing.

“Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll never know.”

At some point, Sylvain let Felix drag him back down to the ground to put on the flat sheet, but Sylvain just wrapped it around his shoulders like a too-big cape and climbed up to jump on the bed again.

And then at last, they flopped down on the bed together, winded and too warm to deal with the blanket yet. “Damn,” Felix remarked, turning to look at Sylvain and smiling radiantly, “I think we got your sheets sweaty already.”

“Perfect.” Sylvain wasn’t even being sarcastic.

And then Felix looked away from him, up toward the ceiling, and his expression instantly shifted. “Oh no.”

“Oh no what?” Sylvain asked. “What’s wrong? It was a joke, y’know. I’m pretty sure the sheets are fine, and—”

“No,” said Felix. “I’m going to have a migraine.”

“Wh-what?!” Sylvain didn’t know what to do with that information besides twitch with panic.

“I’m going to have a migraine,” Felix repeated. “Fuck. I really thought it would hold off for another day… Can you turn off the music?”

Sylvain had never had a migraine. Sylvain had never even seen someone having a migraine. Felix might as well have just said _I’m going to spontaneously combust._ “How do you know? When will it—”

“I’m seeing lights in the corners of my eyes,” Felix explained. “It’s called aura, and it means I’m going to have a migraine within the next hour.” He was calm, utterly blank in a way that could have been eerie but Sylvain found immensely steadying in this moment. “It helps if you close the blinds to block the light out and bring a… a bucket or something in case I throw up. I should take ibuprofen. I’m going to lay down, and—do you have any caffeine pills?”

“No…?”

“Okay. I think coffee would help. I’ll drink it the way you have it—about one fifth milk, and a few spoons of sugar.”

Somehow it was deeply sweet and reassuring to Sylvain to hear Felix explain his own coffee preference to him. As if that part being true meant that everything else must be accurate, too. Those were instructions Sylvain could follow.

He quickly ordered the tasks in his head. He went to the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine and grab his largest mixing bowl, to the bathroom to grab a bottle of Advil, and then back to the bedroom to shut the blinds while the coffee brewed.

Sylvain knew Felix had migraines. He had never witnessed them, since they had tended to happen during the day while Sylvain had been in class, but Felix had described them in detail afterwards, or at least tried to.

Felix had initially just explained why he would sometimes miss a day of class, and then each subsequent time, he explained more, using the most metaphors Sylvain had ever heard from him to describe the pain. “It feels like someone taking an axe to eyes,” Felix had said. “Or driving nails into your temples. Like your brain itself is torturing you.”

And Sylvain could analyze each word—the use of weaponry, the subtle shifting of blame from the external “someone” to the sourceless, disembodied action, until finally Felix’s body itself was the attacker—but Sylvain knew he couldn’t really understand.

While Felix washed down his ibuprofen with coffee, Sylvain got out his phone. He knew full well that he was panicking as he stupidly googled “migraine” and then scrolled—fast, too fast to even read, as if the answers would somehow stand out from the blur.

Prodrome: Irritability, Depression, Aphasia, Nausea, Difficulty sleeping.

Aura: Visual disturbances, Temporary loss of sight, Numbness or tingling.

Migraine Attack: The website listed a million different synonyms for pain.

And finally Postdrome: Fatigue, Confusion, Depression, Euphoria.

All of which seemed fucking useless when it came to understanding or helping Felix. But apparently it could last for up to 72 hours. In a sick, selfish sort of way, maybe Sylvain would get his wish of keeping Felix for even longer.

“Sylvain,” said Felix weakly, “the light...”

“Shit. Right.” Sylvain clicked his phone off and set it aside. “What else can I—”

Felix turned on his side and lay a hand on Sylvain’s knee. “Just be here. It helps if you just stay with me.”

“Okay.” Sylvain tried in vain to shut up. “What else, though? Like, what do I do if you pass out?”

“Nothing. It’s a migraine, not a stroke.”

“I know, but—” Sylvain cut himself off, nervously biting the side of one curled index finger, then bouncing it off his cheek repeatedly.

Felix snorted. “Can you stop doing that, for one?”

“Huh?”

“The thing with your hand. It looks like the sign for sex.” Felix mimicked him, showing the sign properly. He tapped one curled index finger at his cheek. First up, then down.

“O-oh. Whoops. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It feels a bit better to laugh.”

“Teach me more signs then, if it’ll amuse you. And since we’re supposed to be quiet anyway…”

“Sure. This is ‘lying,’” Felix said, demonstrating by swiping his hand under his chin. “This one’s ‘dirty.’” He wiggled his fingers. “This one is ‘pig.’”

Sylvain raised an eyebrow. “What a fascinating vocabulary you have….”

“Hey, I’m just doing ones that you might do while touching your face. But okay, here.” Felix did several signs in a row, frowning intensely as he did so.

“What did that mean?”

“It means ‘I do not enjoy having headaches.’” He did it again, slower.

Sylvain couldn’t contain a laugh. “Wait, did you just bite your thumb at me?”

“Not at you,” Felix said, breaking character to smile, “but it is based on biting your thumb.”

“Wait, did you just… understand a literary reference?”

Felix closed his eyes then. “Yeah. But now I think now I’m starting to pay the toll for it.” Sylvain could see that he was clammy and trembling.

There was a moment of silence between them. “Hey Sylvain? Would you… give me a head rub?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

Sylvain rubbed Felix’s forehead with his fingertips, and ran his hands through Felix’s hair, and gently traced over Felix’s ears. Instinctively, he knew how to make Felix feel better. And there was something beautiful about it to him. That he could alleviate Felix’s suffering by being there. That he knew how to make Felix feel good in ways that weren’t just sexual.

And with the blinds closed, it was as if it were night, as if they’d fast forwarded hours ahead to when Felix was supposed to disappear. He still had the terrifying sense that he’d blink and Felix would be gone. So being able to touch Felix helped Sylvain feel better, too. He kissed Felix’s forehead as tears poured silently from Felix’s eyes.

“I feel better when you kiss me,” Felix whispered, hoarse.

Sylvain leaned over to press a soft kiss to his mouth.

Sylvain expected there to be silence then, but maybe migraines made Felix more forthcoming. Felix opened his eyes and whispered, “You can keep talking, you know. It... helps distract me.”

Sylvain tried to think of what to say. “I wish I knew what it’s like to be you.”

Felix laughed hollowly. Resentfully, perhaps. “Not right now, you don’t.”

“No, really, I do. Maybe then I could…”

What? Help? Take the pain away?

“I’ve met pain before,” Sylvain eventually decided to say. “Only my own, of course. But I’m not afraid to meet yours.”

“It destroys me sometimes,” Felix said. “As you can see.”

“I know.”

Then Felix exhaled a shaky sigh, and it almost sounded like he really would start crying. “I just… I already feel like you’re always somewhere else in your head.”

“I probably am, most of the time.”

“I know. And I get it. But it’s like...” The furrows of Felix’s eyebrows deepened. “It’s like I’m always living in the past. Not on purpose, of course. And you... you’re always somewhere in the future.”

“Also not on purpose,” Sylvain added with a rueful smile.

“Yeah. I know. But it’s... it’s a good thing. That you see possibilities—”

“Too many.”

“—in everything,” Felix insisted. “I don’t know how you do it. But I’m really glad I know you. And that I got to be here with you. It’s been fun. Getting to see you again.”

The words landed on Sylvain like something warm and bloody. It sounded too much like goodbye.

He said nothing.

“Sorry,” Felix said, with that scary dead look in his eyes. “I… I think I just want to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Sylvain started to move to leave, but Felix caught him by the wrist. “No, I…” The bruising grip on his arm loosened. “Can you just… hold me? Just until I fall asleep? Then you don’t have to stay.”

Felix slept then, and Sylvain held him and kept watch over him the whole time. Because this could be the last time he got this sight: Felix, curling in closer to him while asleep, while the afternoon light tried to sneak through the blinds.

It wasn’t how Sylvain had planned to spend their last day together, if he’d had a plan at all. But he was glad Felix didn’t have to go through it alone.

It helped ground him to think of facts instead of plans, so he tried to think of things that he knew beyond a doubt: That he was here with Felix. That he would stay with Felix until he woke up. That he would make Felix dinner and eat it with him.

When Felix woke up, the distraught expression on his face returned, albeit a bit less intense, more sad. “Oh,” he said, clearly taking in the closed blinds and remembering what had happened. “What time is it?”

“About six.” Surely it was too late for Felix to walk home now, right?

“Have you been there the whole time?”

“Yeah.”

Felix didn’t respond. He just curled up close to Sylvain as if it was intentional this time.

Sylvain made dinner that night. He tried to insist that Felix could stay in bed, but Felix argued with him until he finally allowed Felix to follow him to the kitchen. (“I’m fine now. Yes, really. Yes, really really. Yes. Stop asking. I’m not playing this game.”)

Of course, if Sylvain had known Felix was going to stay for dinner, he would have planned for this and taken some salmon out of the freezer earlier to thaw. Or bought those stupid frozen chicken strips and curly fries at the store when they’d went. But he hadn’t known, so now he was in front of the stove, making do with macaroni and meatballs instead, because Felix’s hatred of spaghetti was unchanging, even at the end of the world.

“Are you sure it’s okay to have the lights on?” Sylvain asked hovering over the stove.

“Yes, it’s fine.” Felix sat behind him at the kitchen island. “Don’t want you cooking in the dark and somehow lighting yourself on fire in your enthusiasm to baby me,” Felix added drily while Sylvain lifted the lid to check for the tenth time. “A watched pot never boils, you know.”

“And a drowning man always clutches at straws.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Ah, without insight into Sylvain’s mental state, that was a little nonsensical, wasn’t it? Sylvain struggled to remember what he was actually supposed to say here. “Oh. Um... offense is the best defense?”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“No, wait, I’ve got it: all things come to those who wait.”

“I thought it was ‘good things.’ Good things come to those who wait.”

“Eh, bad things will come too if you wait long enough.”

Felix sighed, exasperated. “But do you have to wait for the water to boil? I think it’ll boil regardless of whether you waste your time staring at it.”

“Oh, I thought we were just saying idioms for fun,” Sylvain said with a joking wink over his shoulder.

“Sylvain. Seriously. You watching it will only make it seem to take forever.”

“Really? I thought time’s supposed to fly when you’re having fun.”

“Are you having _fun_ watching the water?”

“No, I’m having fun listening to you make snide comments about it every two seconds. Besides, what would you have me do instead?”

“You could... I dunno, put on some music or something?”

“I thought we were being quiet around you right now?”

“I’m fine now, I promise. And I liked when you played music.”

“Didn’t it trigger your migraine?”

“No, I’m pretty sure it was a stress migraine. So… maybe music would actually help…” Felix’s mouth scrunched up to one side as he tried to come up with a way convince Sylvain, and Sylvain gave in instantly at the sight.

He reached for his phone and smiled as he started swaying his hips to Overdose by HONNE.

“ _It’s been a while_ ,” he sang, “ _I know we haven’t talked too much. I think about you way too much.”_ He grinned and pointed at his head. _“But it’s always been that way..._ ”

He saw a smile tugging at Felix’s lips, too.

“ _I’ve been dying_ ” —he reached a hand to Felix— “ _to pick up where we both left off. I’m nervous what we had was lost, but I know you feel the same—_ ”

He didn’t realize he was changing the lyrics for Felix until the words were out of his mouth.

Felix tilted his head curiously. “Do I know this song?”

“I don’t know, do you? It’s by HONNE.”

Felix’s eyes flashed with recognition. “Like Warm On a Cold Night.”

“Yeah.”

Sylvain’s body warmed, and it wasn’t just from dancing.

“ _Remember it was only us, and I would give you everything…_ ”

And then the chorus. Sylvain’s favorite part.

“ _I love it when you move in close” —_ he gestured sharply— “ _love the way your body floats” —_ at the end of each line— “ _feel like I could overdose on your energy_ ” —doing his best impression of voguing to keep Felix’s eyes on his hands.

Because Felix still looked tired, but his face softened when Sylvain made a fool of himself.

So Sylvain threw himself into it, doing the wobble and the biz markie and the cat daddy though they were all clearly ill-suited for the song. “— _Feel like I could overdose when you’re next to me. I love it when you move in…”_ He did a slow eight-point pivot turn while snaking his arms over his head just to be able to see Felix’s face come back into view as he finished the rotation.

And it seemed Felix was still a bit out of it, or just didn’t know enough about dancing to recognize the comedy of what Sylvain was doing, because he was watching and smiling earnestly all the same.

“Having fun?” he asked, watching Sylvain’s hands draw double helices in the air.

Sylvain laughed and did a spin. “Yes, of course! Duh!— _What you afraid of? I know that you got hurt last time, but you should know I’m not that type, if you believe me when I say…_ ”

Felix’s gaze slid down from Sylvain’s hands to meet his eyes.

“ _When it’s just the two of us, it can be the best thing—”_

“I love this song,” Felix said suddenly.

“Oh? So you’ve heard it before?”

“No. Never.” Well, that explained why Felix wasn’t signing along with the lyrics—

Then Sylvain’s brain caught up.

“ _I love it when you move in close”_ —he reached for the wall beside him— “ _love the way your body floats” —_ flipped the light switch— “ _feel like I could overdose on your energy_ ” —to dance by the light of the clock on the microwave and the clock on the oven and Felix’s eyes.

He wanted Felix to join him.

He tried to beckon Felix to him with just his gaze, begging, “ _—move in close—”_ silently or not-so-silently calling, “— _fast from slow—_ ” saying, “ _Feel like I could overdose when you’re next to me.”_

Then watching Felix watch him made the feelings in Sylvain’s chest grow so strong that he had to close his eyes to process them.

He let the room melt away, feeling the music vibrate around him, letting his head tip back. He put his hands up in the air again and let one slowly tumble downward until the back of his hand was over his eyes, his head turning to one side, getting euphorically dizzy.

Felix’s hand touched his.

Sylvain’s eyes flew open, and Felix was standing right in front of him, some indescribable look on his face as he gently pulled Sylvain’s hand away. Felix guided it to his own shoulder—to touch him instead.

“What are you—”

Felix stepped closer, in time with the beat. He put one hand on Sylvain’s back, then the other. He fell into rhythm with the rolling of Sylvain’s body and swayed back and forth with him, pressing the length of their bodies together. Sylvain’s arms settled naturally around Felix’s shoulders. His hands instinctively rose to hold the back of Felix’s head.

The song was too fast for a proper slow dance, but that couldn’t stop them. Sylvain didn’t need to have attended senior prom to know that this was how it was supposed to feel.

Felix leaned his cheek on Sylvain’s shoulder, swaying with him in a perpetual hug, and Sylvain had never felt more complete. “Felix...”

Felix hummed in response, starting to follow along with the melody, and Sylvain let his eyes fall shut again.

And when the chorus played one last time, Felix’s voice joined with his as Felix uncertainly mumbled what little he’d learned of the lyrics: “ _Move in close… body floats… overdose on your energy…_ ”

The low rumble of Felix’s voice at his throat had Sylvain’s heart twisting, not from the physical sensation as much as from the intimacy of it, of hearing Felix stumble his way through it.

The earth spun under his feet, but it felt like Felix was the only solid body in the universe anyway, and Sylvain was blissfully lost in the darkness, not wanting or needing anything but the warmth of Felix in his arms—

Sylvain only realized he was actually losing his balance when he felt Felix’s hands catching him.

“… _feel like I could overdose when you’re next to me._ ” Felix sang a wrong note, going up to a _mi_ instead of down to a _do_ , but it was a perfect harmony for the note Sylvain was singing. Felix’s hands clenched tighter on the back of his shirt, and Sylvain hugged him tighter too. “ _I love it when you move in…”_

Sylvain wished they could have swayed like this, in the kitchen, in the dark, forever.

“So,” Sylvain said, stroking his hair, “how’re you feeling? Sad? Euphoric?”

“I… I don’t know.” Felix sounded surprised by the question. “But yeah, I guess.”

“Which one?”

“I… don’t know. I think… a little of both.”

When the song ended, Sylvain didn’t want to let go. But he did let go, and Felix stepped away to tap his phone screen to turn off the music.

But then Felix came back. And the song intro was playing again.

Felix wrapped his arms around Sylvain and said, “One more time.” Sylvain pulled Felix so close he was sure that Felix would be able to feel the lump in his throat while he sang.

They got halfway through the song again before the sound of the pot lid rattling on the stove had them hastily pulling apart to finish making dinner. Together, one more time.

After dinner, they brushed their teeth side by side in the bathroom. Sylvain loved it. He couldn’t resist stealing a kiss as soon as Felix had put his toothbrush down. (He commented, “Minty fresh!” while Felix tried to shove him out of the room.)

“You sure you’re okay to shower alone?” Sylvain asked, worried that a sudden bout of fatigue could lead to a head injury.

“Really?” Felix gave him an extra hard shove. “You’re still trying to shower with me?”

“No! I just… sorry. I don’t know how migraines work,” Sylvain admitted.

“Oh.” Felix stopped shoving, though his hands stayed on Sylvain’s chest. “Don’t worry.” Felix leaned up on his tiptoes and gave Sylvain a kiss on the cheek. “I won’t slip in the shower. I promise.”

_May 16, 2020 at 10:22 PM_

_i wonder if your body will leave some kind of imprint on your side of the bed. a dent, maybe, of you sleeping on your side. an invisible pocket of space between the sheets where i can feel your presence when you are gone. i imagine myself curled up in that spot._

_you’ll leave those pockets of space everywhere in my memory: a dimensional rift when i step into the shower. a thin vertical portal where you once stood beside me on the balcony. a spot on the kitchen counter that will transport me to another time if i ever make the mistake of leaning on it a certain way._

_i will step into those holes without meaning to and be overwhelmed with the meaning you gave to my life. they will shimmer like a heat-haze in my peripheral vision, and i will whip my head around, my eyes straining for a flash of your long fingers. my ears longing for the sound of your bare feet padding around. my hands reaching out to hold you and tell you without words that you never left my mind, not for a day, not for a minute._

_whenever i make coffee half-asleep in the morning, i’ll hold the edge of my mug to my forehead. i’ll imagine that the crescent of warmth is a loving kiss against the worried creases of my eyebrows. i’ll have to stop myself from offering the phantom of you a cup of tea._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello yall i'm SO sorry finishing this chapter took so goddamn long!! 
> 
> in fact, I still feel like this chapter isn't done somehow, but you know what? fuck it! i'm releasing it into the wild anyway bc I want to get to the next one already! I barely even proofread this bc i couldn't stand to look at it anymore!
> 
> So uh feel free to let me know if I've made any glaring errors (so that i can fix them once i've gotten a little distance from this chapter)... and i hope you enjoy <3

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](https://fangirlasdfghjkl.tumblr.com/tagged/the-width-of-a-mattress/) as fangirlasdfghjkl!
> 
> Thanks for reading! And thank you especially for comments, they keep me going and I love to discuss <3


End file.
